


Transform

by rh2036



Series: The Eighth Year [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Roommates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rh2036/pseuds/rh2036
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a few months into his eighth year struggling to find his new identity. With his parents in Azkaban, former Death Eaters looking to kidnap him, and students wanting to attack him in the hallways, he has enough problems to deal with. Against his better judgement, he enters a tentative relationship with Harry Potter, but he in no way deserves it. Will he be able to handle all the pressures of eighth year on top of a relationship?Sequel to Apologize
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe/Gregory Goyle
Series: The Eighth Year [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558558
Comments: 244
Kudos: 315
Collections: NOT FINISHED X





	1. The Date

**Chapter One**

Draco Malfoy had successfully asked Harry Potter out on a date. 

As he lay in bed alone that night, he found that he couldn’t sleep. His mind was swarming with dread, with excitement, and with a terrifying hope. He couldn’t stop thinking about the eleven year old boy with the empty, outstretched hand in comparison to how full he felt right now, both in body and mind.

Ironically, his bed only had one person in it tonight. After he and Harry had discussed going on a date on Saturday, they agreed that they had been proceeding all wrong.

“We’ve been doing this a little backwards, yeah? I mean, not that I know one-hundred percent how all this works.”

Draco scoffed—at least Harry had been with someone before. He had never before shared closeness in a way so terrifying. “The world is so upside down that I’m not sure there’s rhyme or reason to anything anymore.”

“That’s it though, wouldn’t it be nice to have some sort of semblance of order? Maybe we should strictly be friends right now, you know? Not sharing a bed, not being dependent...just _being_. We can see how our date goes and go forth from there.”

Harry seemed sure about this and Draco didn’t want to discourage him so soon after he had agreed to let Draco take him on a date, so Draco slept alone. But he was not happy about it—with his parents’ trial in a matter of days, he was feeling more anxious than ever. He hoped after Saturday, Harry would agree to share his bed in the nights leading up to his next appearance before the Wizengamot.

Draco tossed in his bed, already hearing Harry snoring which was both cute and irritating. He tried to turn his thoughts to happier things—he had a date to plan! Of course their options were severely limited, so he would likely have to take Harry to Hogsmeade. Although, maybe he could convince Harry to use his Invisibility Cloak. He still wasn’t sure about the exact parameters of the manacle that he had to wear on his wrist until he graduated from Hogwarts, but he never got a reprimand for the Ministry from their outing to Godric’s Hollow. The advantage here was Harry’s Muggle upbringing—what could Draco show him about the Wizarding World that would make him fall in love with it as much as the world had fallen in love with him? 

Or maybe Draco should aim a little lower for their first date. Perhaps he could take Harry on a picnic in the Malfoy Gardens? There were peacocks and swans, and it was possible that the lake would be frozen over—maybe they could go ice skating? Draco wondered if he would even have access to the Manor, or if it was still continuously being searched in anticipation of the trial. Besides, would Harry even want to visit a place so dark? 

After a nearly sleepless night, only two days before their date, Draco decided to consult his friends, who were absolutely thrilled that he and Potter had finally expressed their feelings for each other.

“I think if you can go to the Malfoy Gardens, that would be a really cute idea,” Daphne said. “You could bring food, take a walk, get to know each other.”

“I don’t even know if I’m allowed back in my own home. Besides, he may have some bad memories of the place.” Draco didn’t know how much his friends knew of Harry’s capture in his home the past Easter. When Draco returned to school, though, there were rumors everywhere that Harry had been caught but managed to escape the Dark Lord’s clutches again. Of course, his friends had asked about the legitimacy of these rumors, but Draco physically could not tell them due to his punishment.

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed in your own home? It’s yours!” Blaise protested.

“I don’t know, I just don’t want to mess anything up with the trial coming up. I also want this date to go perfectly.”

“Just remember that he isn’t going on a date with you because he wants to do something in particular,” Gregory chimed in. “Vincent and I—“ he paused for a moment while Blaise and Daphne looked very surprised. It was rare for Greg to mention Vincent, both because of his own pain and because Vincent was so hated among the students. “We went on very few actual dates. Mostly we just talked, snuggled by the fire in the Room of Requirement, that sort of thing.”

Draco hated the Room of Requirement, but for a moment wished it was still functioning so that he could turn it into something Harry would love. On Friday, the day before the date, he found it nearly impossible to pay attention in his classes. Harry noticed when they were working on his Patronus in Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“Are you alright? You seem more out of it than usual today, and last time that happened you were nearly poisoned.”

Draco laughed. “No poison for me anymore, I just burn letters from people I don’t know straight away now. No, I’m fine.”

Harry sat down next to Draco, who was fiddling distractedly with his wand. “Is it...is it about tomorrow? We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I understand if you’ve changed your mind.”

Draco looked up at Harry, startled. “Have _you_ changed your mind?”

“Well, no. But I thought maybe you had...”

“No, of course not. I’ve just been trying to think of the perfect thing for us to do, that’s all. I don’t want to let you down,” he said quietly.

“Let me down? Draco, I’m happy to just spend time with you, to get to know you. We truly don’t have to do anything special. In fact, I would love it if we just went to a nice dinner or something.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you’ve been to plenty of nice dinners, I thought you may want to do something more unique. Money isn’t an issue, I can arrange—“

Harry looked at Draco, amused. “I happen to have a vast fortune myself, so no worries about breaking the bank.” _Dammit_. Draco had forgotten that Harry’s father had been of pure blood and was wealthy. _One less reason for him to be with me. Then why did he agree to go on this date?_ “No, we can just go to Hogsmeade, or even Diagon Alley if you want to avoid the other students. I just want to spend time with you, that’s all.”

Draco smiled back, feeling a little more reassured. He realized that he knew fairly little about the man sitting next to him. Knowing how he felt when he was around Harry was certainly enough to warrant wanting to go on a date, but if they were to enter a real relationship he was going to have to know more. 

The day finally came. Parallel to their last Hogsmeade visit, which Draco prayed was a worse experience than this one would be, they took the train up to Hogsmeade, hiding under the Invisibility Cloak and staying in silence to avoid attracting any attention. Neither of them had discussed how open they wanted to be about what was going on with their respective friend groups and the school, and Draco worried that Harry may be mad if he knew that Draco had already told his friends about the impending date. However it seemed both of them came to a silent understanding that the people not expressly involved in their lives didn’t need to know what was going on right now. This feeling did not come out of shame, at least not for Draco, but out of fear. Draco didn’t need to be in the Prophet any more this week than the trial would already push him into the spotlight. 

When Harry and Draco arrived in Hogsmeade, they then made use of the relatively abandoned Hog Head’s Floo network to travel to Diagon Alley. Harry entered the shop first, without the cloak, and made small talk with the person at the counter before Draco entered as well. The poor shopkeeper that he disturbed upon entry looked confused, as his fireplace had erupted in green flames with no floating head or person waiting to speak with him. Harry took his leave and guided an invisible Draco out the back door, both of them stifling laughs.

Harry frowned as he stared down the alleyway. “I didn’t think about this next part.”

Draco was ready to pull off the Cloak, but paused and stared at him. “How do you mean?”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me that much, but if your goal isn’t to be seen by anyone, I’m not sure if that’ll happen. This is almost more public than Hogsmeade, and we didn’t bring disguises or anything...”

“Psh. Speak for yourself, Potter,” Draco said good-naturedly. He pulled off the cloak and reached into his long trench coat. He got out some glasses with the frames cut out, a long scarf, and a beret which managed to hide his platinum blonde hair. “There. People won’t know who I am unless they look really closely, and thankfully it is perfectly acceptable to wear berets indoors.”

Harry looked amused. “You look like you belong on the streets of Paris, smoking a pipe and solving a mystery.”

“Like you would know what Parisans look like,” Draco said teasingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you there someday. Shall we?”

“One moment,” Harry said. “Like I said, I want to do this properly, and a normal first date doesn’t end with being swarmed with autograph requests.” He pulled out his wand.

“Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll try and keep my fans docile,” Draco said wryly, earning a laugh from his date. Harry’s smile lit Draco up inside and out.

Harry Potter morphed before his eyes with a few simple incantations. His hair became a lighter brown, and his face filled out a little. With the glasses Draco could certainly still tell that it was the Boy Who Lived disguised, but it was likely that people wouldn’t notice as they would expect Harry Potter to be either at Hogwarts or in Hogsmeade, not this far away from the safe haven of school.

“There’s a nice restaurant a few blocks from here,” Draco said. He used to go to the Italian place every year with his parents while they did his school shopping. In sixth year, he went with just his mother. He would give anything to be able to take her out to dinner again. His stomach churned at the thought of his parents and the fate they would be facing in the next few days, but he pushed the thoughts out of his mind and tried to focus on Harry’s presence next to him.

“Sounds great,” Harry said, quietly slipping his hand into Draco’s. Draco started at first in surprise, but melted into it. Harry’s hand was so soft—Draco wasn’t sure when he last had this kind of physical contact with someone. Maybe it was never before. 

Draco had so many questions for Harry, so many things that he wanted to know. Where to start? “Do you know this area well? Growing up with the Muggles and all...”

“Somewhat. I actually lived in the Leaky Cauldron for a bit when I was thirteen.”

“Why? Did the Muggles go on vacation?”

“No,” Harry looked amused. “I blew up my Aunt Marge and they kicked me out.”

“You—what?”

“My Aunt Marge came to visit. And of course I didn’t intend for her to swell up like a balloon and nearly go flying into the sky, but it just sort of happened. She really made me angry.”

Draco blinked and realized that the man sitting before him was full of wonder and mystery, and he couldn’t wait to learn everything about him. “Thank Merlin I never made you so angry that you turned me into a balloon...” Draco marveled as the two sat down, with their identities blissfully mundane, at the restaurant. A candle was lit between them, and they were handed wine menus.

“Well, you did get turned into a ferret, so I don’t know which is worse.”

Draco shuddered. “Yeah that wasn’t pleasant. My human thoughts went away, so I really had no clue what was happening. That’s one of the only times I was grateful for Professor McGonagall.”

“That’s weird though, isn’t it? That Barty Crouch Jr posing as Moody would want to turn you into a ferret. I would think that you’d be a favorite of his, given your father.”

Draco stiffened a bit at the mention of his father, and looked at Harry for any sign of malice. Finding none, he cleared his throat. “A lot of the former Death Eaters hated my father, actually. Still do. You heard Dolohov, they think he’s two-faced. And he is, they’re right, but they don’t think the Dark Lord was hard enough on him.”

Harry exhaled through his nose. “It must have been hard, to have been disliked on both sides,” he said quietly, extending a hand across the table.

Draco took it, his voice filled with emotion. Harry acted as though Draco was no longer disliked on both sides, but Draco knew the truth. “It is well-deserved.”

“Draco, look at me for a moment,” Harry said, his tone serious. Draco met his intense gaze. “I want you to know that you’re...I was going to say a totally different person, but that’s not it. It’s like you’ve kept all the best parts of the Draco Malfoy I knew and got rid of the little git inside. You’re still just as funny and witty, but you’re so much more kind and open. And that’s a good thing. You’re still you.”

Draco thought of closing doors in his mind to attempt to block the tears from his eyes. He did not know that he needed to hear those words, and he could feel the ache in his chest as if Harry had pointed out a gaping wound in his soul. “Thank you,” was all he managed to get out.

Noticing Draco’s discomfort, Harry changed the subject. “Could you imagine our faces a few years ago if we told ourselves that we were sitting at a restaurant together, holding hands?”

Draco smiled, and the rest of the dinner conversation remained light. Draco insisted on paying after a lengthy argument with Harry, but Harry insisted that they go for dessert afterward. All in all, the evening was going perfectly, to Draco’s relief. Conversation flowed naturally, and he often shelved away topics for future conversation. For example, there was clearly something wrong with the Muggles that Harry lived with—it doesn’t seem like he was treated well in the slightest. Harry had hinted at it before, but it seemed to affect him more deeply than Draco thought. But that was to be brought up at a different time, because Draco knew how touchy the subject of family could be. Seemingly in turn, Harry did not bring up the impending trial that was looming over Draco’s head like his own personal cloud. 

Their disguises held up, and no one paid them any mind. That is, until a strong gust of wind made Draco’s beret fly right off of his head. Draco cursed and ran after it, promptly bumping into someone who was picking it up. “So sorry, sir,” he started. 

“It’s no trouble.” He looked up straight into the eyes of Mr. Burke, holding his beret. The Malfoy family lawyer’s expression changed from politeness to wariness. “Wait...” he said, no doubt recognizing Draco’s eyes.

Draco took the beret, muttered a quick thank you, and ran back to grab Harry’s arm. “We have to go. Now.” He dragged a panicked Harry away to an alley.

Harry took out his wand. “What’s the problem? Is it your attackers?”

“No,” Draco was surprised that Harry was preparing to fight. “It’s Mr. Burke, I think he recognized me.”

“Oh,” Harry said, looking incredibly relieved.

“It’s a big deal!” Draco said, taking mild offense at Harry’s nonchalant tone. “I’m not even supposed to be outside Hogwarts grounds, let alone Diagon Alley a few days before my parents’ trial! We have to go.”

“Alright,” Harry said, getting out the Invisibility Cloak. “But getting back by Floo Powder unnoticed is going to be a lot harder. I don’t suppose the Vanishing Cabinet is still working?”

“After the Fiendfyre? Are you serious? Plus, think Potter, whose store would it be in?” Draco couldn’t help but be amused at Harry’s terrible idea for a plan. “Now I know why you had Granger in your posse,” he said, putting the Invisibility Cloak around him and Harry.

“Wait, I have a better plan.” Harry led Draco with the Invisibility Cloak to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Draco groaned inwardly, but agreed that this was the best possible solution.

Harry waved his wand so that his hair would turn to its normal coal black shade, and went inside, presumably to talk to Ron. He then ushered Draco in under the cloak, moving upstairs under the watchful and reproachful gaze of Ron so they could use Weasley’s Floo. Finally the two were back on safe grounds.

Draco was somewhat hoping that Harry would share his bed that evening, since the date had gone objectively well. However, after planting a small kiss on Draco’s cheek, Harry crushed that particular dream. “I really want to take this slow,” he said. “Because I think it could be something special. All my relationships burned really brightly and then died out immediately. I don’t want that to happen with us. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Draco said, because it was, and also, what else was he going to say? He tossed and turned in bed, preparing himself for another sleepless night. His face was flushed with the excitement and happiness of the day, and he dozed lightly with ideas of how soft Harry’s lips would be on his.


	2. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets with Mr. Burke to discuss his parents’ trial.

It was a few days after Draco’s date with Harry, and the day before his parents’ trial. All the emotional progress that Draco made in the past few months seemed to have disappeared. His hands were shaking as he buttoned up his coat, and he felt irritable and nauseous. He had also spent the past few nights with unrestful sleep. Though he was extraordinarily happy that Harry had expressed interest in going on another date, he missed the warm presence beside him at night dearly. 

As he exited his room, which Harry had left about an hour before Draco woke up, his mind was swimming with all the things he had to do. He would only be attending half of his classes today before meeting with Mr. Burke, but he also had to get his school work in anticipation of tomorrow, and maybe for longer after that if the Wizengamot couldn’t reach a decision. That’s the reason he had given Daphne, Blaise, and Greg for missing breakfast, but in truth he didn’t feel like he could stomach anything. He felt so heavy already, he didn’t want any food sitting in his stomach and weighing him down.

He closed the door to the eighth year dormitory behind him and immediately ran into someone. “Watch it,” he growled, before realizing it was Harry Potter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was a stupid first year.”

Harry smiled. “I’m glad it wasn’t, it seems you’re in attack mode today. Can I walk with you?”

Draco had Alchemy this morning while Harry had Ancient Runes. Normally they wouldn’t see each other until the end of the day, or possibly at mealtimes. Draco was certainly happy at the surprise encounter, but also nervous—he certainly wasn’t the best version of himself today, not at all the person that he wanted Harry to see. But what else could he say? “Of course,” and Harry fell in step beside him.

After a few moments of silence, during which Draco’s hand twitched twice next to Harry’s, wanting to touch his hand but also being incredibly aware that they were walking together in public, Harry spoke. “I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning. I wanted to make sure you were upright.”

“I’m fine.” Draco was touched by Harry’s concern.

“I’ve said that enough times to know when it’s a lie. I know what’s happening tomorrow,” Harry stole a glance at Draco, watching his wince. “and I know that you probably don’t want to talk about it. So I’m here specifically to not talk about it with you. We can talk about anything else or we can just be quiet. We can even take our meals in the kitchens today, if you’d like. Just to get away.”

Draco paused outside his classroom and smiled at Harry. “I’d like that.”

“Thank goodness for Harry Potter, looking out for us even now by keeping Malfoy in line. I hear his parents are going to be thrown into Azkaban tomorrow, maybe he’ll be next?” A fifth year that Draco only vaguely recognized moved past them, making sure her voice was loud enough for both of them to hear. 

Harry glared at her, but clearly she had wanted his attention. She bounded over to them. “Oh, Harry, thank you so much for protecting us all last year. I’m sure you don’t want to be speaking with the likes of him. Do you want us to walk you to class?” She had a group of other Hufflepuff girls behind her, all looking up eagerly at the Boy Who Lived.

“Absolutely not. You guys were here through the War, I’m surprised you don’t know better than to make rampant accusations. Keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong and go to class,” Harry said roughly. 

The fifth years looked crushed and melted away, disturbed by the encounter. The one who spoke stole a piercingly evil glance back at Draco as she walked away. Harry turned to Draco. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“You can’t control what people say, Harry. It’s completely not your fault.” Harry still looked dejected, so Draco lightly touched his hand. “I too am glad that you’ll always be around to keep me in line.” Harry smiled back, squeezing Draco’s finger, and the world felt right again.

Draco walked into class in a much better mood than he had started the day with, but with yet another weight on his shoulders. _This is why we could never be together. I would absolutely ruin Harry’s reputation._ Draco would love nothing more than to walk through the hallways of Hogwarts with Harry’s hand in his, making sure everyone knew where Draco’s heart lay. But the sacrifice that Harry would have to make in order for that to happen was too enormous to imagine.

Draco swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and pushed that thought aside. He closed that emotional door in his mind before its contents could spill open, knowing full well that the next time he wanted to open that door, there would be a huge mess to clean up. 

A few hours later he found himself early to Professor McGonagall’s office, waiting for Mr. Burke. She had offered him a biscuit as usual, but he declined politely. His hands twitched involuntarily on his knees as he struggled to avoid looking at the portraits of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. 

“How have you been, Draco?” She asked after a moment.

“Fine.”

“I noticed that you have continued your sessions with the Mind Healer. I’m very happy about that. I know it can’t be easy.”

Draco gave a noncommittal shrug.

“It’s no use trying to get through to him, Minerva,” a familiar voice drawled behind her. “He has a tight rein on any emotion that doesn’t allow him to exude arrogance.” Draco tensed, recognizing the hurt in his former mentor’s voice.

“That’s quite alright, Severus. I imagine he’s stressed about the trial tomorrow.” She then turned back to Draco. “It’s going to be alright. But I want you to know that you’ll always have a place here, so long as you don’t do anything to compromise your probation.” 

Draco looked up—she seemed to say this last part with quite a lot of emphasis. Did she know that he had snuck out with Harry to Diagon Alley? He was worried enough that Mr. Burke had recognized him...

He did not get a chance to clarify Professor McGonagall’s question as Mr. Burke appeared in the fireplace. The old man looked even more aged and tired, as he carried a bulging briefcase no doubt filled with notes, evidence, and counter-evidence. He sat heavily in the chair as Professor McGonagall took her leave, giving them some space.

For a few moments, Mr. Burke didn’t say anything. He looked...almost uncomfortable, maybe a little angry. “Sir?” Draco asked hesitantly.

“You,” Mr. Burke started in a very cold tone. “Are very lucky.”

“I’m—pardon me?” People who weren’t of pure blood had before called Draco lucky, mostly for his wealth, but Draco wasn’t sure that described any situation in which he and Mr. Burke currently found themselves.

“I know you were out. With Potter. You are incredibly lucky that the _Prophet_ didn’t notice.” Draco’s heart fell—so he did know. “Why would you do something like that? Why would you completely disregard my advice and put your entire family in danger?”

“I just...I truly thought my disguise was enough. I was being careful.”

“It doesn’t matter if you had used a Polyjuice Potion, Draco, that’s not the point!” Mr. Burke boomed, putting a fist on the desk. “First, you refuse to pay a visit to your father in Azkaban. Then, you go off galavanting in Diagon Alley, somewhere even unrestricted students aren’t even allowed to be, and to top it all off, you were with Harry Potter of all individuals! What if you had done something to upset him? What if you had been seen with him? Do you have any idea how careless you were being?”

“You’re right, sir. I apologize for my disobedience.” It was like Draco was instantly taken back to his childhood. He felt so small in comparison to Mr. Burke. He heard Lucius in that yelling voice, telling him that he wasn’t good enough. His hands clenched the fabric on his pants just to keep from shaking.

“Well, an apology will not suffice. I thought that your father’s musings about you potentially sabotaging the Malfoy family were simply a result of being in Azkaban for too long. Now I see that there is some truth to it.”

“No, I’m not trying to hurt my family, I would never do that—“

“You already have. Because I cannot trust you enough to be a witness at tomorrow’s trial.” Mr. Burke put a hand on his briefcase and stood up suddenly. “I think we are done here. I’m sure you’ll be able to hear the outcome from the _Prophet_.”

“Wait, sir, please—“ but Mr. Burke was already gone in a flash of green light.

Draco did not wait for Professor McGonagall to return—no doubt she thought the meeting would take longer than the five minutes that Draco spent being scolded. Instead, he walked out of her office numbly, nearly stumbling down the gargoyle steps. What had just happened? Had he really been shut out of his parents’ trial, just because he wanted to enjoy his life?

He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he be angry with Mr. Burke, or angry with himself? Or angry at his father for causing all of this in the first place? He started to aimlessly walk around, feeling enraged and horrifyingly helpless. More than anything he wanted to not have one of his attacks, but he felt it coming from deep inside his stomach. Would he even be allowed inside the Ministry tomorrow? How would his mother feel not seeing him sitting in the stands? _She’ll think I abandoned her._ His mind was reeling and his heart raced, making his chest ache and the castle lilt to one side. He leaned against the wall and desperately tried to breathe, but his lungs were closing.

He knew he was going to black out. He looked around—it couldn’t be here. The hallways were too open, anyone could come along him. This did not help his panic. He tried desperately to remember what his Mind Healer Christine had taught him as he ran looking for safety. _What are five things I can see? I can see the stairs._ One step. _The portraits_. A meter. _A candle_. A flight of stairs. He was wheezing now, and he knew he didn’t have much time. He would give anything for Harry to be by his side right now. He abandoned his exercise in the five senses and darted into the nearest bathroom. It wasn’t his and Myrtle’s, just a regular boys bathroom, but thankfully it was abandoned. He crawled into a stall, locked the door, and leaned back against the wall, letting the darkness surround him.

He was never sure if during these attacks he actually fell unconscious or just became unaware of what was happening. But the next thing Draco knew, he was shivering and his head was aching. Nausea overcame him, and he heaved into the toilet, miserably wiping his face, which was already wet with tears.

“Draco? Can I come in?” An impossibly gentle voice came from the other side of the stall door. Draco recognized it as Harry’s, and he was both horribly embarrassed and incredibly grateful that Harry had somehow found him. 

The stall wasn’t large, but Draco reached a trembling hand up to unlock the door, letting Harry inside. He was sure that he looked a mess and certainly didn’t smell great after the bout of vomiting, but Harry pressed close to him anyway. Draco leaned back and closed his eyes as Harry gently placed a cool towel on his forehead. Harry rested his hand on the top of Draco’s head and slowly stroked his hair.

For a long while neither of them spoke. Then, Draco had to ask. “How did you find me?”

“I’ll tell you later; it’s kind of an interesting story,” Harry said, smirking. Draco wondered exactly how much he would have to unravel and deduce about Harry before he knew every inch of the man sitting next to him. And my god, he wanted to know every inch so badly. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I mean, I think I can sort of guess...”

Draco shook his head, memories of the afternoon flooding back to him. “It’s not what you think. I’m...I’m not going to be called as a witness tomorrow.”

Harry looked confused. “Why? And isn’t that a good thing, so you don’t have to deal with it?”

Draco swallowed, feeling sick and anxious again. “He did recognize me when we were out. Mr. Burke, I mean. He said that my father was right, that I was trying to sabotage the family, and that he couldn’t trust me in a courtroom.”

Harry tensed next to him. “That’s bloody ridiculous.”

“What if...what if he’s right? I mean, he did tell me not to go anywhere or do anything or it may mess things up with my parents—“

“So what, you’re just supposed to sit back, lock yourself in your room and do nothing? You’re eighteen Draco, you deserve to live your life.”

Draco’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t care much about protecting my father. But if what I did in any way caused my mother harm...I could never forgive myself.”

“But it didn’t, right? Only Mr. Burke saw you. Only he’s making a big deal about it. It wasn’t in the Prophet, there weren’t any attacks, everything was fine! You did absolutely nothing wrong.” Harry took Draco’s hand. “Trust me. I’m always the first to blame myself when things go wrong, so I completely understand what you’re saying. I would tell you if you screwed up. You didn’t. You just...existed. And that’s not a mistake.”

Draco managed a small smile. “What time is it anyway?” He wanted to change the subject since he wasn’t able to quite believe what Harry was saying.

“It’s just after dinner time. When I didn’t see you, that’s when I came looking.”

Draco clenched his fist. “I don’t even know if I’ll be able to see the trial now, since I’m not a witness or anything.”

Harry looked thoughtful. “Do you want to see the trial? Is that what you really, truly want?”

“Yes,” Draco said without hesitation. “I want to see my mother. I want to see how they question her, I want to make sure she’s alright.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. Then we will get you there.”

Draco had an enormous amount of faith in Harry, but even he wasn’t sure how the Boy Who Lived could make this right. But Draco did know one thing: for the first time in his conscious memory, Draco looked at Harry and felt as though he were falling in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so glad you guys like this second installment so far! I’m not sure yet how long it’s going to be, so I’m leaving the number of chapters as a ? for now. You can expect updates every few days, I’m going to try and do every 3 days but it may vary as the new semester starts. I’m super excited to read all of your comments, so please keep them coming! :)


	3. The Ministry of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of some unexpected friends, Draco enters the Ministry to view his parents’ trial.

  * After about half an hour, Draco and Harry extracted themselves from the bathroom floor. “Come with me,” Harry said as Draco washed up. “We have work to do.”



Draco was too physically and emotionally exhausted to question him, and allowed himself to be led to the eighth year common room. He never spent much time here. It seemed as though the rest of the friend groups had their own staked-out areas, but the Slytherins had no corner of the room. Harry led him right to Hermione and Neville, who were sitting on cushions near the fireplace. The crackling of the wood and the heat did not help Draco’s nerves.

“Hey guys, we need your help.” Harry sat beside Hermione and gently pulled Draco down with him, handing him a pillow from the couch. 

Hermione and Neville, who seemed to be immersed in sketches for the memorial, looked at each other. “What’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“We need to get Draco inside the Ministry tomorrow. Particularly the Wizengamot.”

Draco felt a rush of affection for Harry but also a little embarrassed and concerned. He was telling Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, two powerful individuals with high Ministry standing, that Draco needed to commit a crime tomorrow. Did Harry expect them to not question anything?

“That won’t be easy, they’ve implemented a lot of new security measures since we last did it.” Hermione absent-mindedly shuffled through papers as she said this. Draco was bewildered. _The last time they did this? They’ve done this more than just that one time in fifth year?_

“My gran told me that the Ministry requires a blood sample now to make sure no one is using glamours or Polyjuice Potion,” Neville added. “But we didn’t need any of that in fifth year...”

Draco was loathe to speak right now, but his curiosity got the better of him. “I did always wonder how in the world you lot managed to get into the Department of Mysteries as fifteen year olds.” 

The rest of the Gryffindors smirked. “It was remarkably simple,” Hermione said. “But the point is, it’s not anymore. So we’ll need—“

“What’s going on here?” Draco turned around to see Blaise, Greg, and Daphne standing with their arms crossed, looking suspiciously at the other Gryffindors. 

“It’s fine. They’re just helping me with something.” Draco tried to ward them off before anyone started an argument.

Blaise didn’t move for a moment, and Draco was worried he was about to pull out his wand. Instead, he reached for other cushions and made room for the three of them beside Draco. “Anything they can help with, we can also help with.”

Hermione, Neville, and Harry looked at Draco to see if he minded including the Slytherins, while Draco was looking at them for the same reason. He gave a nod and smile to his friends, and brought them up to speed. Surprisingly, no one tried to tell Draco that this was a stupid idea or that he was crazy. They were all supportive, and more shockingly, very willing to work together. Greg and Neville mused about different disguise options to each other while Daphne, Blaise, and Hermione worked out some of the optics. Harry and Draco smiled at each other, and Draco felt like he was a part of something bigger—a feeling he had experienced before as a Death Eater, but this time was proud of it rather than horrified with himself.

The Slytherins proved to be a very needed addition to the group. The Gryffindors seemed to want to make these grandiose plans that had about fifty different ways they could go awry. Draco’s friends on the other hand thought of an easier strategy.

“Potter, you can’t tell me that the entire Ministry would stop moving if you wanted to see someone in it. Why don’t you just sneak Draco in along with you?” Daphne asked.

“Because of the new wards,” Hermione said. “They can detect any invisibility spells, and they say they can see through all invisibility cloaks,” she stole a glance at Harry. Draco wasn’t sure if the others knew that he had one. “I’m not sure how true that is, but if it is true and Draco is caught trying to sneak into the Ministry blatantly using invisibility, it won’t end well for him.”

Draco sighed, becoming a little agitated with all the circling around different plans. He was also still emotionally exhausted—his meeting with Mr. Burke felt like it was a year ago and he hadn’t been able to relax since. “I appreciate everyone’s help, but if it’s not possible, it’s fine.”

Everyone seemed to ignore him as they all sat thinking. Then Greg spoke up. “What if we all just went in as ourselves?” The students looked at him. “Potter could say that he wanted to talk to the Minister about the new cooperation between Slytherins and Gryffindors, or the new memorial, or whatever, really. The Minister would listen to Potter. Then Draco would get in of his own accord, and then we could somehow slip him into the Wizengamot. It’s certainly less risky than trying to get him into the entire Ministry unnoticed.”

“That’s a good point,” Hermione said. “And Harry has an Invisibility Cloak, so Draco could get into the Wizengamot pretty easily.”

“Just make sure it’s a good enough one,” Blaise chimed in. “I got one of those for my thirteenth birthday and its magic ended up wearing out right as I was about to catch one of my mother’s husbands cheating on her.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Harry said with a smile on his face that Draco couldn’t decipher. “It’s definitely good enough. What do you think, Draco?”

“I...I mean I think that sounds like the best plan we’ve come up with so far, but why do all of you have to be involved?” Hermione and Neville glared a little, but Draco hadn’t meant to be insulting. “Not that I want you specifically not involved, it’s just that the less people who go, the less risky it is.”

“I think the opposite,” Daphne said. “I think that the more of us go, the more believable our story is.”

“We’ll have to miss class,” Hermione chewed on the tip of her quill. Everyone glanced at her, and she quickly sat up. “But it’s worth it.”

“Well...” Draco felt awkward. He knew that Harry, Blaise, Daphne, and Greg were certainly his friends, so their sacrifice at least made sense. But why were Granger and Longbottom agreeing to do this, after all Draco had done to them? What did they expect in return? “Thank you all. I owe you all...something.”

Hermione seemed to understand why Draco was uncomfortable and chimed in. “No worries, Draco. I can actually kill two birds with one stone here and talk with Kingsley about some new laws supporting the rights of house elves.”

Draco thought that was very odd but Neville nodded along. “And I can discuss some reforms that need to be made at St. Mungo’s. So it’s not like it’ll be a total waste of time.”

“Alright then,” Draco said. “So we meet here, tomorrow morning?”

Granger nodded. “I’ll tell Professor McGonagall what we’re doing.”

That night, Draco and Harry both slipped on their pajamas. Draco’s hands were shaking as he buttoned his shirt, and he kept stealing glances at Harry from the side. He had known tonight would be difficult, but now that he was going to break the law tomorrow morning, he felt even worse. He wanted nothing more than to feel Harry beside him and take in his warmth. But he didn’t want to disrespect Harry’s wishes to take their relationship more slowly. 

Harry began to undo his covers. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Um...” Draco said, giving Harry pause. “Actually. Um. I know that you want to take things slow and that is totally fine with me. Better than fine actually, I don’t care in the slightest. Wait! No, I care, I just—“ Draco’s face was screwed up in confusion, and Harry looked amused. Sometimes it was difficult for him to find the line between being nonchalant about something and just blatantly rude. “I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to sleep in my bed tonight?”

Harry gave a small smile. “Of course.” Draco let out a huge sigh of relief. “But no funny business,” Harry joked as he climbed next to Draco. With a flick of his wand, Harry turned the lights off, and lightly touched Draco’s hand under the covers. Draco was glad that it was dark and Harry couldn’t see how much he was blushing. 

Thanks to Harry’s presence, Draco was able to get a decent amount of sleep that night. Harry gently pushed him awake bright and early the next morning, and they both got ready in silence. Hermione was already brewing tea when they entered the common room.

“Professor McGonagall is alright with us going to the Ministry today. We can even use her Floo,” Hermione said happily. She wasn’t wearing her Hogwarts robes today, just a professional blazer and skirt. She also held a stack of folders in her hands, presumably something about house elves. Though Draco wasn’t sure at all how he felt about the creatures, he couldn’t help but admire her perseverance. He used to have the same kind of drive.

After the group assembled, they were able to walk to the Headmistress’s office. Professor McGonagall gave a curious glance at Draco, who tried his very best to avoid eye contact. However, she let him go with the others without saying a word. 

Draco wasn’t sure when his parents’ trial started, but the sooner they got to the Ministry of Magic, the better. They could definitely kill time there anyway. Draco was wearing another subtle disguise, this time different color glasses frames and a boulder hat much like the ones that Cornelius Fudge used to wear. It certainly wouldn’t stop from people recognizing him if they took a good look, but it would potentially stop jeers from afar. 

One after another, the students Floo’ed into a new Ministry checkpoint. Using Floo Powder to get into the Ministry was heavily regulated since the war, and they were only able to do it in the first place because the Headmistress’s Floo was trusted on the network. Once they reassembled, they walked up to the checkpoint station, where they were greeted by a bored witch—that is, until she looked up.

“Hello, how can I—oh!” She gave a little cry of surprised, straightened herself up, and then began fiddling with the various papers on her desk. “Hello! Mr. Potter—and Ms. Granger and Mr. Longbottom! It’s great to see you here. And uh...your companions,” she gazed reproachfully at the Slytherins. “What can I do for you?”

Harry was immune to her charm, but did notice the glance that she had given the others. His voice was flat and irritated when he spoke. “We’re here to see Kingsley. About a project we’re doing for school.”

“Ah, fantastic. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. If you all could just stick out a hand for me—“ she pulled out a wand and begin doing diagnostics on the group, presumably checking for any hidden spells or glamours. She got to Draco last, and he outstretched his right arm. “Let me just check one thing really quickly,” she said, frowning and walking away.

Draco swallowed nervously and spoke quietly to Harry. “They may not even let me in as it is.”

“Oh they’re going to let you in,” Harry said darkly. “My... _influence_ or whatever—I certainly don’t like it, but I’ll make it useful when it comes to people I care about.”

Draco’s heart soared, and he felt rather enamored. _He really does care about me._

The woman came back with a burly looking man behind her. “You’re all cleared to see the Minister,” she said, opening the gate that led to the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. 

“Fantastic, thank you,” Harry said, and the crew began to walk out of the gate. The burly man followed them, and Harry turned around quickly. “May I help you?”

“I’m your escort,” he said roughly. He wasn’t wearing Auror garb but something similar, and had his wand clenched in his fist. 

“That’s quite kind, but I do not need an escort,” Harry said, confused.

“I’m not for you. I’m to make sure he doesn’t try anything.” The man nodded his head at Draco, whose heart fell.

“What do you mean try anything? And why him, exactly? Is he a convicted criminal?”

“Well, not exactly, but he is on probation and his parents are here today—“

“Where does it say in the law that someone on probation needs an escort to walk through the Ministry?” Granger spoke up. “And it isn’t as if he is alone. Did the Minister order this himself?”

The guard glanced at the check-in witch, both of whom looked uncomfortable. “No,” the witch said. “We just thought it would behoove you, Mr. Potter, if we took proper precautions for your safety—“

“Well you thought wrong,” Harry stated bluntly. “And it isn’t as if the Ministry cared for me that much in the past few years, anyway. We’ll take it from here.” 

As he began to walk away and the rest of the group followed, Draco was having an extremely difficult time sorting out his feelings. He felt horribly nervous and embarrassed by what just happened, but also was insanely attracted to Harry in this moment. Draco remembered his sass, but forgot the utter strength and confidence with which he acted. If Draco could, he would kiss Harry right then and there, even though they hadn’t shared that moment at all yet.

As usual, the Ministry was a hustle and bustle of loud noises. People were flitting from one place to another, some with cameras and most with briefcases. Draco saw the Prophet in dozens of hands, with his parents’ mugshots on the front cover. He pushed his crush on Harry out of his mind and remembered why they were there. Seeing the others looking a little lost, he pointed them in the right direction. “Alright, the Minister’s office is up the elevator and—“

“Excuse me! Excuse me, so sorry. I’m really late for the Malfoy trial, it started ten minutes ago—“ A reporter barreled past the group of students, not even noticing the Boy Who Lived. 

“Ten minutes ago?” Harry stated. “Here, you guys go ahead and talk to Kingsley. We’ll meet up with you in a little bit.”

Blaise, Greg, and Daphne looked a little nervous to be left alone with Granger and Longbottom, but all nodded and swiftly went away.

“Wait!” Draco called. “Here Harry, I’ll take the cloak, go ahead with them—“

Harry shook his head at Hermione, who had stopped at Draco’s call. “Do you really think I’m going to let you go alone? Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry chastised, but not roughly. Draco knew that he was just being protective. “If you get caught, having me there will be a huge benefit. Even if you don’t, I want to be there for you. I know this won’t be easy.” Draco didn’t have a chance to respond before Harry was taking him into a quiet hallway.

Harry slipped the fabric around himself and Draco, and Draco felt its cool touch of invisibility. They walked in silence to the Wizengamot court room, where they thankfully hadn’t closed the doors due to a mountain of reporters and Ministers trying to get in. They slipped inside and managed not to bump into anyone as they stood near the back, waiting for the doors to be closed before they took a seat. A woman named Ainsley Hale, Pius Thicknesse’s replacement, was presiding, and she was reading the expectations of the trial while Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat behind the witness chair, looking pale and thin. 

Finally the doors shut, and it seemed like the trial was about to begin. Draco and Harry carefully coordinated sitting down, and Harry grabbed Draco’s hand, stroking the palm with his thumb. Draco couldn’t speak without drawing attention, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to anyway. He was filled with fear for his parents and an overwhelming sense of appreciation and adoration for the man sitting next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked writing this one! Let’s hope the trial brings Draco and Harry closer together. As always, please let me know what you think and leave your comments! I love reading them and I love you guys.


	4. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry manage to sneak in to watch Narcissa Malfoy’s trial

“Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy,” Madam Hale’s voice boomed from behind the podium where she sat. “You are charged with obstruction of justice, tampering with the investigation of known Death Eaters such as Dolohov, Nott, the Carrows, and others. How do you plead?”

Mr. Burke stood up heavily. “My clients plead not guilty, Madam.” Beside him, Narcissa looked firmly at the crowd, but not one particular person, while Lucius’s eyes darted around in a paranoid manner.

“Very well, then the trial shall commence. I would like to remind members of the Wizengamot that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are not on trial for any matters besides the one at hand. Certainly their past Death Eater activities should be taken into account as we begin this examination, but they will not be tried twice for the same crimes. Is this understood?” Seeing no objection, Hale continued, addressing Mr. Burke. “Do you have any witnesses that you would like to call before we conduct this trial?”

Narcissa glanced at Mr. Burke hopefully. Draco wondered if she even knew that he wouldn’t be called as a witness today. “No, Madam,” Mr. Burke said somewhat bitterly. Inside the Invisibility Cloak, Harry put his hand on Draco’s, as if sensing that the only thing Draco wanted to do was run out to the center of the courtroom and be a witness to help his mother.

There were murmurs throughout the courtroom, and Draco saw various reporters scratching at their notepads. Apparently they had anticipated that Draco would be called as a witness, or that _someone_ would. _What kind of a lawyer is Mr. Burke, not having any witnesses?_

Even Madam Hale seemed surprised. “That is an...unusual decision, Mr. Burke. Are you sure that we should proceed?”

Mr. Burke looked annoyed. “It’s difficult to have witnesses for a crime that wasn’t committed.” Draco had to admit that was a good line.

“Very well. Will Narcissa Malfoy please present herself for questioning?” 

Narcissa got up shakily and walked over to the looming chair in the center of the courtroom. As soon as she sat down gingerly and placed her hands on the armrests, chains engulfed her wrists. She jumped at the noise, but other than that looked quite composed. Draco felt a swell of pride for his mother, who rarely looked shaken by anything as the Malfoy matriarch. He also felt horrible at how painfully thin she looked.

“The questioning may commence. Narcissa Malfoy, please tell me what you did the as soon as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell this past May.”

Narcissa cleared her throat. “My husband, son, and I sat in the Great Hall, awaiting further instructions.”

“Did you speak with any other Death Eaters?”

“No,” Narcissa said firmly. “I tried to steer my family away from the remaining group of Death Eaters as quickly as possible.”

“So apart from your own family,” _Ouch_. “When was the last time that you had contact with any Death Eater?”

Narcissa hesitated this time. “My husband and I were approached by Nott in mid-September.” Draco let out a small gasp, but Harry squeezed his leg somewhat painfully as a reminder that they were not to be seen or heard. Thankfully other murmurs drowned out the sound.

“Theodore Nott Sr., correct? The elder one?”

“That’s correct.”

“Tell me about this encounter with Nott.”

Narcissa sighed. “He came to our home—“

Another wizard swiftly interrupted her. “How were the Aurors not notified? Isn’t the Malfoy Manor being monitored by wards?” He wasn’t speaking to her so much as Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, who sat only slightly raised among the members of the Wizengamot, not drawing attention to himself.

“Malfoy Manor is being constantly monitored,” Kingsley said. “I will admit that how Nott got beyond those wards and others is unbeknownst to me. Our Aurors are tirelessly investigating the matter. Narcissa, are you aware of how Nott managed to evade our protective measures?”

“I am not,” Narcissa said evenly.

The same wizard who interrupted her before spoke again. “Are you aware that lying to the Wizengamot can land you in Azkaban for life?” Draco clenched his fist at this stranger taking this tone with his mother. He wasn’t sure if he recognized the man from his own trial or not—that entire time period had been such a blur.

“Quite,” Narcissa quipped coolly. 

“Very well,” Hale brought the court back to order. “Let’s continue then. The encounter with Nott?”

“Yes, he came to the Manor. It certainly surprised us when he knocked on our door, but we let him inside. He claimed that he needed to talk to us about something important, something that could impact both of our children.” Narcissa choked up on the last word. “We served him tea, and he explained that our sons were not safe in this world. He said that his son, Theodore Jr., was in hiding abroad, and that he couldn’t believe we allowed Draco to return to Hogwarts. He claimed that he had a way of...allowing our families to have better standing. To allow our children to have better lives. All we had to do was abandon our home save for a few key items and come with him. He said that we could have Draco back in our arms within weeks.” 

“What did you say to this request?”

“It was...quite sudden. We asked him if we could have some time to think about it, but he pressed us. He said that a day to think about it would be allowed but the sooner the better.”

“So the agreement was that you were to accompany him to an undisclosed location, and in exchange you and your family would be safe? Is that correct? There were no other terms?”

Narcissa squirmed a little in her seat. “There was one other thing. He wanted an ancient artifact that had been in the Malfoy family for generations.”

“What is this artifact?” Kingsley’s voice boomed, though he sounded like he already knew the answer. 

“A Time-Turner,” Narcissa said, and everyone in the courtroom gasped as they realized the implications. Draco swallowed. _A Time Turner...that could potentially bring the Dark Lord back to life_. He remembered the presence of his crush beside him. Certainly any plan that involved resurrecting the Dark Lord also involved harming Harry. Draco also realized how little he knew about the current situation. Was Theodore Nott Sr. in Ministry custody? What had happened to Draco’s old classmate, Theo? He all of a sudden wished that he had not burned the letter he had received from the younger Nott.

“Yes, the Time Turner that was so conveniently missing when the Aurors went to look for it the other day,” an elderly wizard spoke up. 

“We will address that later,” Madam Hale spoke. “What did you say to his proposition, Mrs. Malfoy?”

“We refused, obviously. We took the day to think about it, and when Nott returned the next day, we informed him of our decision.”

“When you were discussing what to do, did you ever consider notifying a Ministry official of what had happened?”

“No,” Narcissa said almost proudly. 

“And why not?”

“Ministry officials are not like to believe Malfoys as of late,” she spoke angrily. “And with our son at Hogwarts, unprotected and worse, blocked from performing magic of his own, we were trying to create as little damage as possible for our family.” Draco felt a swell of affection for his mother. She always had him and her family in mind, no matter how flawed they were.

“How did that work out for you?” The wizard who was a constant interruption jeered. Others made outbursts about the selfishness of the Malfoy family. 

“Silence. We shall continue,” Hale thundered. “How did Nott Sr. react when you informed him of your decision?”

“He was furious,” Narcissa’s voice trembled. “He threatened our son. He threatened to murder us right there and take the Time Turner himself—though he didn’t know where it was. He said that if he ever succeeded in his plans, he would make sure that our family faced absolute brutality.” Her hand jerked, wanting to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face, but her hands were cuffed to the chair. “His taunts went on for a little while. When we refused to give way, he left, vowing that he would come back for the Time Turner.”

Kingsley asked the next question. “Do you know the current location of the Time Turner?”

“No.”

“When was the Time Turner last in your possession?”

“Before the Dark Lord took up residency in our home,” Narcissa said surely, as though she knew they were going to ask this question. “It always sat in the same place, in a locked box contained in a room guarded with spells, so Draco wouldn’t enter it as a child. This room contained all Malfoy and Black artifacts that we possessed. We only looked for the Time Turner after Nott initially came to our home, and it was gone.”

“Was anything else missing?” Another wizard spoke up. “Was anything disturbed?”

“The wards were faint, as we hadn’t renewed them in a while, but unbroken,” Narcissa stated. “As far as we know, there was nothing else missing.” The murmurs of the crowd began to sound panicked. A missing Time Turner was an enormous danger, especially with so many violent Death Eaters still at large. Even Harry shifted uncomfortably beside Draco. Draco looked down and realized they were both clutching each other’s hand. He wasn’t sure when that had happened. 

Hale was silent for a second as she looked at Narcissa. “Why did you say no to Nott’s proposition? If you dislike the society under this Ministry, why not try for a new one?”

Narcissa looked down. “We were...not favored by the Dark Lord.”

“Please elaborate.”

“Though he did stay in our house, my husband was punished severely for his past renouncing of Death Eater ways. My son was also punished greatly.” Draco tensed. He didn’t want Narcissa to relieve any of his punishments in front of the Wizengamot. 

“What sort of punishments?”

“As you know, Draco was forced to take the Mark at the age of sixteen. He was tortured dozens of times, so much that he would stand in a room and forget where he was, that his hands would tremble when he picked up a glass. He was made to do humiliating things under the Imperious Curse. The Dark Lord forced him to torture others, both with the Cruciatus Curse and by other means.”

“Yes, yes, how incredibly tragic,” the interrupting wizard drawled sarcastically. “It isn’t as if dozens of others experienced the same over the past few years.”

Narcissa stared violently into his eyes, leaning forward and only stopping because of the chains. “Over Draco’s Easter break, Draco had his tongue cut out for a week.” Tears were now freely falling down Narcissa’s face, and she looked as though she somewhat regretting this admission. Draco had begged Mr. Burke not to discuss that event in his original trial, and Mr. Burke said he only would as a last resort. That time never came, yet here his mother was, discussing his worst and most humiliating nightmare with everyone. Even the worst of the Wizengamot members looked uncomfortable. “The Malfoy family, as said in our last trial, does not wish for the Dark Lord to return,” Narcissa finished coldly.

There were murmurs going around the court. Some of this was known from Draco’s trials, but some was new information. Certainly some of it was new information for Harry Potter, who looked at Draco under the Invisibility Cloak. Draco felt the familiar sick feeling and started to shake. _Merlin, not here. Not in this courtroom._ He did not want an attack while he couldn’t even be seen or heard. Him being discovered would mean the end of his parents’ trial—a fact which did not help to calm his nerves. Draco pushed down feelings of anger toward his mother. Why would she tell the entire Wizengamot about his sufferings? Some part of him knew that the more she mentioned about what their family went through, the better chance there was of redemption, but he was also horribly embarrassed. How could anyone take his suffering seriously when he had such done terrible things to others?

Draco had a concept that Harry was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear. He felt the attendees shuffle around him as Harry quickly pulled him up, and they made their way unseen toward the exit where many were congregating in the hallway. Without speaking, Harry kept pulling Draco through different hallways until they were in an empty office. Harry shoved Draco into the armchair of the desk and forced his head between his knees. Draco was only aware of the tiles on the floor and his own ragged breathing as he heard Harry rearrange the furniture in the room to barricade the door. 

“Shhh...” Harry said as he scooped Draco into his arms. Was this the first time that the Boy Who Lived hugged Draco? Harry pressed Draco’s head into the crook of his neck to stifle his sobs. Draco hadn’t even been aware that he was crying, but now that Harry was holding him, he felt safe enough to let out all his emotions. “You’re okay,” Harry whispered to him over and over again. Draco was certainly not okay, but if he could hug Harry like this for hours upon hours, he knew that he would be.

After a few moments taking in the comfort of Harry’s scent, Draco leaned back in the chair and wiped his eyes. “Shouldn’t we get back to the trial?” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. 

“They’re taking a recess, I’m not sure if you heard.” Harry started rubbing at his forehead, and Draco noticed his hand was shaking. 

“Are you alright?” Draco took Harry’s hand away from his forehead and held it in his own.

“Yeah.” Harry sighed, and Draco looked at him expectantly, knowing that he wasn’t telling the truth. “It’s just...the concept of Voldemort coming back. Being brought back using a Time Turner. I just don’t want to have to do it all again,” he finished in a small voice.

“You won’t have to,” Draco said firmly. “The Ministry is taking care of it, it’ll be okay.”

Harry shook his head and took a few moments to prevent tears from coming out. He let out a mirthless laugh. “The Ministry has never taken care of anything. They didn’t believe me for a year after I said Voldemort was back, remember?”

That sent a pain through Draco’s heart. Ironically, Draco fully believed Harry at the time because he knew that his father had visited the graveyard on the night of Cedric Diggory’s death. But instead of supporting Harry, Draco had mocked him mercilessly and tried to discredit him to the press. “I know,” Draco said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault that Fudge turned a blind eye—“

“No, I mean...I’m sorry that I knew you weren’t lying and I didn’t say anything about it. I made things worse for you and that was wrong. I’m really, really sorry.”

Harry looked into Draco’s eyes for a moment, as if to see if he really meant the apology. Then his face, red from stress, broke out into a smile. “I forgive you. Thank you for apologizing. I’m sure it must have been difficult to—“ Harry frowned and reached into his pocket.

“What’s wrong?” Draco was worried about how quickly Harry cut off his sentence. Did he not believe Draco’s apology after all?

Harry pulled out a golden coin and looked at embossed lettering on the front. “We have to go. Hermione said Kingsley is back in his office and is looking for us right now.” 

“But—“ Draco looked helplessly toward the door where he knew somewhere his mother was waiting on the other side. “You could go, and I could stay here—“

“Draco, if I show up without you, they really will declare that you’re missing or worse and have the whole place on lockdown within seconds. If we can get to Kingsley and make some excuse, we can come back down here and see the second half.”

Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to see the second half, when Lucius was testifying. He wanted to stay and keep looking at his mother, he wanted to keep remembering that being a Malfoy couldn’t be so bad if she was a Malfoy. She held herself so well, the perfect mixture of elegance and honesty. He always looked to his father as a kid, but Draco suddenly felt as though he had been looking toward the wrong parent this whole time.

So he steeled himself, pushed away thoughts of self-interest, and asked: _what would my mother do_? The answer was that Narcissa would do whatever was best for her family. So Draco nodded and allowed Harry to pull them both back under the Cloak. As they exited the area of the courts, Draco knowingly stopped using Occlumency, opened his mind, and said a silent prayer for his mother. Though he knew that she wasn’t in his mind listening to his thoughts, he hoped that somehow she heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very much not good at writing trial scenes and I don’t enjoy it particularly much, so if this was halfway decent I’ll be a happy camper! We’ll get back to Hogwarts and back to Harry and Draco’s relationship after the next chapter—just need to do a teeny bit more establishing of the plot. 
> 
> Also, did you know Theodore Nott’s dad doesn’t have a canon name? I’m super bad with names so I just decided his name would also be Theodore.
> 
> It also just occurred to me while I was writing this that Draco would have absolutely known Harry was telling the truth in fifth year. But it was to his family’s advantage that no one believed Harry. If only they could have connected a bit sooner, things would have been a lot different...
> 
> Finally, for anyone who has sadly read the Cursed Child, sorry to bring up any painful memories of that script. It isn’t a terrible idea, someone trying to bring Voldemort back using a Time Turner, but it was just executed horribly in the Cursed Child. It won’t really pertain to this story a whole lot (which is obviously not Cursed Child-compliant), but it gives the former Death Eaters something to do, lol.
> 
> As always, comments are extremely wanted and appreciated! Love you all.


	5. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco refuses to leave the Ministry without seeing his mother. He also learns the full extent of Harry’s “saving-people thing”.

Harry hurriedly led Draco upstairs to Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, where presumably the others were waiting. Draco was shaking, knowing that he didn’t have the emotional capacity to handle any snide remarks at this point, but his small disguise worked well enough for him to escape notice. Harry, though, was not so lucky. 

“Mr. Potter! So good to see you. You never got back to me about that biography—“

“No thanks!” Harry called over his shoulder, rushing Draco past the balding man.

“Oh, Mr. Potter!” This woman had the audacity to grab Harry’s arm. Draco wanted to hex her right then and there, but had no means of doing so. He reached his arm out, unsure of what to do with it, but sure that he wanted to protect Harry. “I never did get to thank you for what you did for—“

“Lovely, no thanks necessary, I’m sorry but I’m running a bit late—“ Harry thankfully was able to escape this woman as well, but the onslaughts kept coming. Is this what Harry dealt with every time he went out? Draco was starting to wonder if maybe Harry was as trapped as he had been this summer. 

They were stopped dozens of more times as they navigated their way up to the Ministry. When they finally reached the elaborate office, they found Hermione and Neville sitting before Kingsley Shacklebolt’s desk, and Daphne, Blaise, and Greg standing behind them, looking uncomfortable.

“Harry!” Kingsley boomed, and got up to shake his hand. “It’s so good to see you! How are you doing?”

“I’m good, Kingsley, thank you.” Harry seemed genuinely happy to see Kingsley.

“I was wondering where you had gotten off to, the rest were waiting for me in the lobby...” Kinglsey looked at Draco with a fake smile plastered on his face. “Please, have a seat.” Kingsley gestured to the empty chair beside Hermione that none of the Slytherins had taken. “Mr. Malfoy,” Kingsley nodded toward Draco, the first acknowledgement of him. Draco took his place behind Harry.

“So,” Kingsley leaned back. “What can I do for you all? Is this about the memorial?”

Everyone looked at each other. They hadn’t planned to actually discuss any joint project with the Minister, it was simply just their way of getting in. No one spoke, until Hermione finally sat up, a calm look on her face. “Yes, we just wanted to talk to you about our success at collaboration...”

Draco allowed his mind to wander as Granger came up with a brilliantly executed anecdote about why they were there. His hands twitched anxiously against the back of Harry’s chair. Was the break over downstairs? Was his mother back on the witness stand, facing Hale alone? Or had they moved on to his nearly-psychotic father? 

Nearly an hour passed with the Gryffindors and Shacklebolt chatting merrily, and the clock was ticking. Draco had to get out of here. The Invisibility Cloak brushed against his trembling hand— _the Invisibility Cloak_! Trying not to disturb Harry, who was reminiscing amicably with Kingsley, Draco coaxed the cloak out from Harry’s side. Harry noticed at the last possible second and tried to grab the end, but Draco was able to pull the fabric away. “Excuse me, Minister, I have to run to the loo.”

Kingsley nodded distractedly at Draco, still in conversation with the Gryffindors while the Slytherins looked on politely. Greg gave a side glance at Draco, but seemed to think it would be better to not draw attention to him. Draco hurried with the cloak outside of Kingsley’s office while Harry was still unable to escape the conversation. Draco knew that Harry would not be happy in the slightest about him just running off, but Draco had to see his mother. He actually had to talk to her, and he had to do it alone.

Even with the Invisibility Cloak, remaining hidden was a daunting task. He was sure that he bumped into at least ten people on his way down to the courthouse, and he always had to wait by a door for someone else to open it. Thankfully, oddities were the norm in the Ministry, and no one stopped to investigate what may have knocked their coffee over. 

Draco made it down in the depths of the Ministry without drawing suspicion. To his surprise, everyone was mostly milling about, chatting with each other excitedly, rather than in the courtroom. He stopped to listen to a reporter who was interviewing a member of the Wizengamot.

“Yes, Narcissa Malfoy has been useful to the Ministry, and therefore I don’t think many of us saw the benefits of holding her in Azkaban for much longer,” the man said while the reporter quickly jotted down his words. “She’ll still be under house arrest as her original probation required, and we will need to monitor Malfoy Manor more closely, but she will no longer be imprisoned.” Draco’s heart leapt—he found it hard to believe that his mother was free after only about two hours of a trial, but he was thrilled nevertheless. 

“I see,” the reporter nodded. “And what of Lucius Malfoy? Do you anticipate him also being released from Azkaban?”

“That will be more difficult,” the Wizengamot member stated. “His trial will begin in the afternoon, and I doubt we’ll have a decision made before tomorrow. We need to make sure he doesn’t know where the Dark artifact is, and we also need to see about the level of contact he has had with Nott.”

It was all Draco could do to not tap the man on the shoulder and ask him where his mother was now. Draco didn’t give a second thought to his father’s impending trial that afternoon—all he wanted was to be in his mother’s arms. He had been so wrong about so many things, but this he could make right. And he could likely get back to Kingsley’s office without too much questioning as to where he had been. He just needed to find the right room—

“Oof!” Someone crashed into him—he had been lost in thought and not paying attention to his surroundings. Draco went sprawling down onto the floor, but thankfully was still covered by the cloak that could contain at least two full grown adults. He scurried to the wall and pressed his back to it as the person he collided with looked confused. 

“You alright, ma’am?” The reporter asked. To him, it probably looked like she stumbled for no reason.

“Yes...I bumped into someone...” Draco wasn’t going to wait around while they tried to puzzle out this mystery. He needed to get away, and fast. Finally, he spotted Mr. Burke entering a room with a bunch of papers. Before he could second guess himself, he darted into the closing space just before Mr. Burke shut the door.

He was in what appeared to be a small holding room. It was carpeted and only contained uncomfortable wooden chairs and a small desk. A pitcher of water sat in the corner near the fireplace, which wasn’t lit. The false windows showed a gloomy sky. Looking at the morose view was his mother, weak and shaky but sitting straight and tall. His heart was racing—he wanted more than anything to run to her, but Mr. Burke couldn’t know he was there.

“Alright, Narcissa,” Mr. Burke said gently. “A Ministry official will be here in a few moments to escort you back to the Manor.”

“What about my husband? I don’t get to stay for his trial?”

“I’m afraid not. Hale doesn’t want you and Lucius speaking to each other until after the proceedings.”

“This is ridiculous,” Narcissa glowered with some of the spark that Draco had always admired gleaming in her eyes. “They are repeating their same mistakes of two years past. Making a spectacle of great wizarding families simply because they had nothing better to do didn’t help then, and it will not help now.” _I don’t know if you can call our family a great one anymore..._

“Nevertheless,” Mr. Burke spoke calmly. “There is nothing more we can do. You must think of your son. I think he’s been struggling lately, and you need to be there to guide him into adulthood. Particularly if he is going to have to take over the family assets at the turn of the year.” Mr. Burke spoke about this like it was almost a certainty. Draco always knew he would one day inherit the Malfoy fortune, but he didn’t expect it to happen so young. He also was terrified at what his father would do if the fortune was taken from him while he was still living. The accusations he had hurled at Draco would become a reality. 

“When can I see Draco?” Narcissa leaned forward, all anger gone from her face.

“He will likely be able to get away for a weekend to make sure you’re settled in. But only if he behaves himself—you should send him a letter at once telling him to end his antics.”

Narcissa nodded and Draco’s stomach plummeted. _What has Mr. Burke told her?_

“I’m going to finish some paperwork and prepare for Lucius’s trial this afternoon. I will likely see you this evening at your residence.” Mr. Burke stood and took his leave.

Narcissa sat, picking at her cuticles. Draco didn’t want to scare her half to death, but he had to take his chance while he still could. He slowly slipped the Invisibility Cloak off, and the ruffling of the fabric falling to the ground make her look up.

“Draco?” She exclaimed, and Draco quickly moved forward to shush her. 

“I can’t stay for long, mother. But I just had to see you.” He bent near her and took her hand. 

Narcissa nodded, the other hand pressed to her mouth to keep from speaking. Her eyes were already filling with tears as she gathered her son in her arms. Later, Draco would pretend that the wet spots on his blazer were from her tears, and not his. “My dragon, oh my goodness. I am so, so proud of you. I promise you that everything is going to be okay.”

“I know, mother,” Draco said into her shoulder. _I should be the one comforting her_. He leaned back and looked her in the eyes. “I’m going to take care of you now. I promise. You won’t have to worry about any of this happening ever again.” Now that he examined her more closely, he noticed her graying hair and the new wrinkles around her eyes.

She nodded and cupped Draco’s cheek in her hand. “I’m so—“ her voice suddenly broke off when she heard footsteps. “We’ll talk later, dragon, I promise. Quickly!”

Draco nearly had to roll over to make it to the Cloak in time, but he managed to get almost his entire body covered before the door opened. Narcissa moved to the other side of the room so that the guard would make eye contact with her when he entered rather than with Draco’s obvious foot. 

The Ministry worker—somewhat roughly, to Draco’s annoyance—escorted Narcissa through the Floo. When he returned, thankfully to the same room, Draco slipped behind him before the door shut. There wasn’t a clock in sight, so Draco wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he knew that he quickly needed to get back to Kingsley’s office. 

Once he reached the proper floor, he was running, and slammed immediately into Blaise. “What the bloody hell—“

After taking a quick look around to make sure they were alone, Draco slipped off Potter’s cloak. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly.

“Merlin’s saggy balls, mate! I was starting to think you’d gotten kidnapped right here in the Ministry!” Then, in a quieter voice, Blaise leaned forward. “Did you see your mum?”

“Yeah,” Draco nodded and smiled. “She’s home now, they let her go.”

Blaise enveloped Draco in an unexpected hug, patting him on the back. “That’s wonderful! I knew everything would work out. Come on, let’s go back in and hear more praise for the Gryffindors.” Blaise was being sarcastic, but at the moment Draco wouldn’t have cared if he were required to kiss Granger’s feet. He was still riding the high from getting a moment of affection with his mother, and knowing that she was safe and sound at the Manor. 

As they ended their day at the Ministry, Draco having accomplished his mission, Draco couldn’t help but worry that Harry was mad at him. Back in Kingsley’s office, Draco had tried to touch Harry’s shoulder, and he seemed to deliberately shift away. Draco also tried to make eye contact, and Harry met his eyes only with a cold stare. Once they all got back to Professor McGonagall’s office and went their separate ways, Draco asked Harry to hang back. Thankfully Hermione and Neville obliged, giving them a small smile as Draco thanked them again. 

“Hey! Did you hear? My mother is back at the Manor.” Draco had to work to keep pace with Harry.

“Yeah. That’s great.” Harry kept his head down.

Draco lightly touched Harry’s arm, the gentleness finally making Harry stop. “What’s wrong?”

Harry looked at Draco for a second. “You really don’t know? You don’t know why I’m mad.” The last part was more of a statement than a question. Harry sighed. “Come with me.”

Draco followed Harry into an empty classroom. “Harry, whatever I did I’m—“

“No, listen,” Harry said roughly as he paced. “You—you just left! You just left. You didn’t tell me where you were going or what you were planning on doing. You just up and left. After hearing all that about the Time Turner, after being accosted constantly in the hallways, my nerves were already on fire. And then you just leave when you knew I couldn’t follow you.”

Draco hadn’t realized how much his behavior had affected Harry. After a moment he spoke, sure that he wasn’t finding quite the right words. “You’re right. I should have at least told you my intentions. I’m really sorry.”

Harry continued, rubbing at his forehead. “Do you know what I would do if you had gotten in trouble? If you had gotten yourself thrown into Azkaban? I—“ He sank down into a chair and gave a deep sigh.

Draco thought for a second before sitting down next to Harry. “Help me understand,” he started. “I was risking going to Azkaban when we started this plan in the first place.”

“Right, but I was with you. We were all with you. If you had gotten caught, we could have helped you, and at least I would have gotten caught with you.”

“Okay. I understand,” Draco said. “But I don’t want you to worry about me so much that it upsets you. My family is really important to me, and I take risks for them when it’s necessary.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I would too. If I—“ Draco guessed how Harry was going to finish that sentence.

“Harry, I know you weren’t about to say that you don’t have a family. You have Teddy, I know you stay at the Weasleys’ a ton. And if you don’t like them, I’m sure any Wizarding family would fall over their feet for you to choose them.” That got a laugh out of Harry. “I know it’s not the same as not having your parents alive. But you still care about them, and I’d know you’d do anything for them. Hell, you’re pretty close to being willing to do anything for random people on the street. That’s how I feel about my mother.”

“I know, you’re right. I get it, I do. I’m just—I’m really starting to care about you. And it’s scary.”

Draco took Harry’s hand. “Now that, I understand completely. But we’re going to get through this together. Hopefully now that my mother is out of Azkaban, things will calm down a little. Maybe I won’t even have to wear a disguise to go out on dates.”

Harry smiled, but sighed again. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t think we have enough room for two reckless blokes in this relationship.”

Draco smiled back. “I promise I’ll be more careful.”

As the two walked back to their room, not quite hand-in-hand but fingers touching along the way, Draco knew two things for sure. Number one: he never wanted Harry to be mad at him again. Number two: the fact that Harry cared enough to be mad at him was one of the best feelings in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! We’re certainly not done seeing Draco’s parents (after all, we still have to find out what happens to Lucius), but I think we’ll go back to Hogwarts now to develop Draco and Harry’s relationship. 80k words overall without even one good kiss is like 80k too many. So I think we only have a chapter or two before that happens...
> 
> How do you guys want Draco and Harry’s first kiss to go? Anything else you want to see? All comments are appreciated. I love you all!


	6. Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conflict in the hallways leads to a clarification needing to be made...

The rest of the week was a surprisingly a good one for Draco. He spent the majority of his time getting caught up on schoolwork and corresponding with his mother over letters. His father’s trial was supposed to begin to take place the same afternoon that his mother was released, but an hour in and the Wizengamot found that Lucius Malfoy was in no state to answer questions. He was sent to St. Mungo’s for rehabilitation, with his trial postponed until a later date. Draco’s mother implored him to visit Malfoy Manor the following weekend, and then they would both be allowed to visit Lucius in the hospital under Ministry supervision. Draco didn’t feel like he could say no to that request.

Draco’s friends were relieved at the outcome of the trial, but Draco knew that his parents weren’t out of the woods yet. After the events at the Ministry, he finally decided to poke his head out from under the sand and research current events. Thanks to old copies of the _Prophet_ , he was able to determine a few things. Theodore Nott Sr. was not in captivity, and neither was his son. The Time Turner was in fact missing— _hopefully those reports are accurate, or my father is in deeper than we think_ —and there were very few leads on where it could be. There were still about thirty Death Eaters that appeared in a section of the Prophet dedicated to rewards for their capture, dead or alive. 

Besides the factual information, Draco also realized that though reporters such as Rita Skeeter no longer had articles in circulation, the journalists of the _Prophet_ still saw it their right to intersperse personal remarks within factual news stories. The article about the second Malfoy trials labeled Draco’s parents as being absolutely pathetic. Where Draco had seen his mother’s courage in her perseverance to protect her family, the _Prophet_ just saw a sad woman clinging to former glory. Draco wasn’t present at his father’s trial, but he had less doubts that the portrayal of his father as delusional and paranoid was inaccurate. 

Draco had spent his entire childhood listening to his father talk about how vital it was for the Wizarding World to look upon the Malfoys favorably. But surprisingly, he found that he didn’t much care that the _Prophet_ was cracking jokes at his family’s expense. What he did care about was the absolutely horrifying attitude toward which the newspaper treated Harry Potter. The paper alternated between praising Harry Potter as though this was the stance it had taken from the beginning and criticizing Potter for not doing more to help the current Death Eater crisis. They made remarks such as “Potter seemingly doesn’t care about the remaining Death Eater threat, as he has turned down multiple invitations from various departments at the Ministry to come assist...” and “Potter and fellow war heroes Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom were seen with a group of Slytherins at the Ministry. Is Potter being bribed or coerced, or is his only concern pardoning former war criminals rather than trying to catch more?”

Draco knew that Harry avoided the _Prophet_ , so he took cares to keep the papers in his desk drawer. He, too, had to get used to throwing away dozens of hateful messages that arrived by owl each morning. But it was vastly different to be criticized by random strangers than to be berated by a prominent newspaper. It was this rage that caused Draco during one sleepless night to abandon his bed, which was still not shared by a stubbornly principled Harry, and enter the common room to write a letter to the _Prophet_.

He thankfully found it empty, and began scratching his thoughts:

_To the idiots at the Daily Prophet,_

_You cannot even begin to understand how amazing Harry Potter is, and I am writing in an attempt to help you preserve any last bit of journalistic integrity—_

Draco scratched out the letter. There weren’t enough words that could be used to describe Harry, and his certainly weren’t sufficient. Draco had the tip of his quill to his mouth when he was startled by a kettle being taken out of a cupboard.

“Sorry,” Granger spoke from the kitchenette. “I feel like I always startle you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco said, and he meant it. In the past few weeks he had been feeling more and more comfortable around Granger. They actually had quite a bit in common—both had a love for reading and both were shrewd, sometimes to a fault. But he knew that he had a lot to make up for. He talked to Christine about apologizing to her and had been spending sessions working on crafting a proper apology. Glancing toward the clock, however, he knew that two thirty in the morning wasn’t necessarily the time to do it.

“Why are you up?” Granger asked.

“I’m just—“ Draco sighed. “Do you read the _Prophet_?”

“Yes, not necessarily for real news, though. Just to see what they’re saying. Why?”

“They say horrible things about Harry. Even after everything he did. I just can’t believe it.”

Granger gave him a sly smile as she stirred her tea. “You know, not too long ago, you were the one giving negative quotes about Potter to the _Prophet_.”

Draco’s heart fell and he stared at the paper miserably. “I know.” He had written into the _Prophet_ dozens of times, but never in Harry’s favor. Maybe that’s why he was having such a hard time finding the right words.

“Hey,” Granger said gently at his tone. “I was just joking around, I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Draco said more forcefully than he intended. Feeling frustrated, he turned to face Granger fully. “Why do you talk to me? You should _hate_ me.”

Granger looked down. “I’m up a lot at night because of nightmares. What happened at your house included...”

Draco wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “Exactly. Of course you are. So why make things worse by approaching me? I didn’t just stand by and do nothing at the Manor, I tormented you for years.” Part of Draco felt like he was purposefully egging her on. Now that things have calmed down with his parents, he was focusing more on Hogwarts, and that meant focusing on everything he did during the past few years. He felt like everyone was giving him far too much credit for very mild changes.

“You did,” Granger agreed. “But I can see that you’re trying now. When’s the last time you said ‘Mudblood’ anyway?” Draco didn’t respond, but he was sure it had been nearly a year. “Exactly. I don’t have the energy to hate you anymore, Malfoy. No offense meant, but it’s not really worth it.”

There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately, that the Malfoys weren’t worth hating, and Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t want his family to be a threat to others, but he was so used to being a part of an influential whole. Who was he without that? “For what it’s worth, Granger,” Draco said. “I never should have called you that word. It just bothered me so much that I was nearly always second in class to you, and you didn’t even have the head start of having magical parents. But that’s not an excuse for how I treated you. I’m sorry.”

Granger smiled. “Apology accepted. But if you think for a second I’m going to apologize for punching you in third year, you’ve got another thing coming.” Draco laughed a bit, remembering how surprised he was at Granger’s aim.

Hermione walked over and looked at some of the crumpled papers next to Draco. “This is really sweet,” she said. “I doubt they’ll listen, but it needs to be said. I wouldn’t tell Harry, though, he’ll just tell you you’re wasting your time.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Draco said. “These are moments when I wish my family still had the influence it once did. I could have stopped all these remarks.”

“If it helps, it only bothers Harry a little. He just doesn’t like hypocrisy.”

Draco shook his head. “He just deserves so much more, you know?”

Granger smiled. “You really like him, don’t you?” Again, Draco didn’t answer. “Are you two officially an item?”

“No,” Draco said. “Our date went fairly well but we really haven’t talked about our relationship since. Things have been really crazy with my family so I don’t think he wanted to bring up anything.”

“Well, things have at least settled down a little. You just have to remember that he’ll be waiting for you to make the first move.”

Draco went back to bed a little while later, letter to the _Prophet_ ready to send in the morning, thinking about his conversation with Hermione Granger. He truly couldn’t believe how much she and he had talked this term, and how civil they were being toward each other. Apologizing didn’t feel so difficult anymore. Before it was as though every apology he made only had relief a long time after, and until then they smothered him. Now it felt natural to admit mistakes, it felt safe. He just wanted to stop feeling so guilty after talking to Hermione. It still felt like he was disobeying his parents. In a way he was, but he was eighteen now. _There is nothing wrong with talking to Muggleborns. And I hope there’s nothing wrong with enjoying it._

The next step in his life was to figure out how to become in an official relationship with Harry Potter. He knew that Harry had at least two prior relationships—a brief escapade with Cho Chang and then, of course, Ginny Weasley. He wish he knew how these came to be. He knew that Ginny and Harry started dating after a Quidditch game, but who asked whom? How public were they about their relationship? How easy was it to win the Boy Who Lived’s heart? Draco hadn’t even kissed anyone before, besides one time Pansy tried when they were kids. What if he was terrible at it? 

These thoughts rattling around in his mind made it very difficult to concentrate on producing a Patronus. Draco and Harry were running out of time—they were supposed to start teaching the rest of the class in the month of December, giving them about three weeks to prepare. Draco was very confident in Harry’s Occlumency abilities, although he realized a little too late that it may be difficult to give a demonstration on something happening inside someone’s head. Then he remembered the Triwizard Tournament. If they could stare at a lake and a cloudy hedge maze for an hour, the students could certainly sit through a lesson on Occlumency.

On the other side, Draco still had not been able to produce a Patronus. Harry didn’t seem worried, which almost made things worse. He was so kind and encouraging, and he was such a good teacher. Draco was worried that Harry felt like Draco’s failure was attributed to his teaching skills. 

“Let’s try something different,” Harry said patiently.

“Harry, you’ve been an amazing teacher, but maybe we should just go with _Expelliarmus_ or something. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this in the next three weeks.”

“First of all, I’d never hear the end of it if we taught a disarming spell for first years, as important as I believe it is. Second of all, I have full faith in you. We just need to try something else. Think of something you want to happen instead of something that has happened in your life.”

Draco looked skeptically at Harry, who then told him to close his eyes and imagine it. “Imagine you in whatever place you are, with whoever you’re with. How does it feel? Are you happy? Are you excited?” Draco recognized that Harry was trying to connect with him through Occlumency, since he was good at that.

Fine, he would play along. Draco imagined Harry and himself in some sort of gardens. The sun was shining, and they were hand in hand. More importantly, they were in public, with other couples milling about the park. No one was grabbing Harry and pulling him away from Draco. No one even noticed them. They were alone in the world in the best possible way. They came to a bench, and in his vision Draco sat down with Harry, pulling him close. He brushed aside Harry’s bangs to look at his scar, and kissed it tenderly. Then his lips moved down to Harry’s mouth, their noses brushing up against each other. Finally, Draco touched his lips to Harry’s, slowly parting them as they both moved closer to each other—

“Whenever you’re ready,” Harry said, sounding amused.

_Goodness gracious, how long have my eyes been closed?_ Draco tried to capture the elated feeling inside and forcefully said “ _Expecto Patronum_!” He opened his eyes only to find the faint outline of a creature, not a full Patronus. Still, it was certainly progress.

“That’s fantastic!” Harry said. “That vision must have been really good.” Please don’t ask me about it. “I think if you develop it more, you’ll be able to produce a Patronus in no time.”

“Only thanks to you,” Draco said as he grabbed his bag. 

“Hey, Hermione is visiting Ron tonight and I’m not sure what Neville is up to. Is there any chance I could sit with you at dinner?”

“Um...” Draco was surprised, and looked at Harry’s face to make sure he wasn’t joking. “Of course!”

Harry looked concerned. “You’re sure your friends won’t mind?”

The two of them walked out of their classroom. “I’m sure they’ll be a little awkward, but they won’t mind. They certainly won’t just gawk at you like I’m sure anyone else would if you decided to grace them with your presence.” Draco nodded to a giggling group of girls that had just passed them, their attention thankfully only on the Boy Who Lived.

Draco and Harry made their way through the halls, chatting quietly about the changing weather. There was a chill in the air, which Draco loved, but Harry did not. Draco was in the middle of laughing at something Harry said when he was suddenly and forcefully knocked to the ground by a jinx. The jinx left him petrified, and so his nose bled because he couldn’t put his arms out in front of him. 

“Sod off Malfoy! You should be in Azkaban along with your loser parents,” he heard a voice snarl.

He still was unable to move, but he heard Harry growl, “I’ll have you reported for attacking another student. We’re not doing that here anymore.”

“Oh, Saint Potter sticking up for Malfoy, how sweet.” Draco suddenly recognized the voice to be of Zacharias Smith. He was one of the few in the school that seemed to hate both Gryffindors and Slytherins and could also annoy them both. “What, are you guys dating now?”

“None of your concern, Smith. Go be a prick somewhere else.” 

Suddenly Draco was turned over, and with a flick of Harry’s wand, able to move again. “Ugh,” he spluttered. “It’s getting all over my shirt.” It was true. His normally pristinely white undershirt was now stained a dark brown.

Harry laughed. “Here,” he said, fixing Draco’s nose with only a brief sharp pain and also cleaning his shirt. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry,” Draco said. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“I do still mean to talk to Kingsley about your band there, though,” Harry said, nodding to the manacle on Draco’s wrist. 

“Goodness, please don’t,” Draco said in a serious but somewhat light tone. “Hey—“ he said, stopping Harry for a moment. “You could have...I mean you didn’t have to tell Smith that...I wouldn’t have been mad if you said we weren’t dating.”

“Well...would that have been true?” Draco looked at the ground, unusually unsure. “Here—“ Harry said, and led him to a secluded bench in a quiet corner of the castle. They both sat down, waiting for the other to speak.

“I certainly understand that there would be heavy consequences if you decided to date me. And if you decided to tell people that you were dating me,” Draco began, his voice heavy.

“Draco,” Harry said, prompting Draco to look at him. “You know that I don’t care about what people think. People thought I was right batty for a whole year, and it didn’t affect the way I lived my life.”

“This is—I mean that was bad, but this is different. This could be dangerous for you. You saw what Dolohov tried to do, I—“ Draco sighed, rubbing at his left arm. “I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because you were dating me. I don’t know what I would do with myself.”

“The same could be said for you!” Harry said combatively. “People definitely wouldn’t like you dating me. I’d be fine, at least I have some...societal protection, or whatever. It’s you who I’m worried about.”

“Well you shouldn’t be.” Draco said, hating seeing Harry worked up like this.

“Then I guess we both feel the same way. About that, that is. The real question is, what do you want?”

“It’s not about what I want, it’s about practicality—“

“Draco Malfoy. Who on this bench has died before?” Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m serious! I’ve died. And when I was standing in the Forbidden Forest, waiting for it to happen, it comforted me to know that overall I didn’t have many regrets. Now if you don’t want to date me because you’re worried about you, that’s okay. But I’m a full grown man and I’ve been through the ringer more times than most people have in their entire lives. So if you don’t want to date me because you’re worried about me, that’s ridiculous and impractical. And while you are certainly ridiculous—“ this earned a laugh out of Draco “—you’re not impractical.”

Draco sighed again. “I guess you’re right. If you’re really sure about this, then it would be the greatest privilege in my life to call you mine.”

Harry smiled and took his hand. “I guess that’s settled then. I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?” He planted a kiss on Draco’s forehead, and left the blonde man sitting shocked on the wood.

Draco wasn’t sure he could possibly move yet. He felt just as paralyzed as he did when he was on the ground with a bleeding nose. _Am I...am I dating Harry Potter?_ He felt like he couldn’t even be elated yet. It was only a matter of time before Potter would surely change his mind and realize what he had gotten himself into. Draco just had to savor the moments until that day came. And he vowed to himself to soak up every touch. Maybe if he gathered enough, he could put the pieces together and make a happy memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally they are dating! A lot of my friends were like “oh they should kiss before they date” but I just didn’t see that happening. However in the next chapter.....
> 
> Comments are appreciated! You guys should really look forward to the next one ;)


	7. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Harry and Draco are official, there are some things to decide.

Draco could hardly focus in his next class. Squirming in his seat, he was reluctant to raise his hand at all to answer any questions. He was terrified that he would blurt out “ _I’m dating Harry Potter!_ ” It was all he could do to stay in his seat and try to let calm waves wash over him. Was it possible to have a panic attack over something good?

_It’s not all good yet._ Draco still had dozens of questions about the parameters of their relationship. He had grown up with everything so well defined. His mother and father went on dates at least once every two weeks, leaving Draco with Dobby or another pureblood family as a sitter, and went on an extended vacation without him for two weeks out of the year to keep the marriage healthy—and he assumed, try for more children. Draco had also heard about Lucius and Narcissa’s marriage agreement. They had liked each other from the start, and once their parents noticed, their courtship began with supervised dates. This was followed by party appearances where they were able to sneak away, and finally they were able to spend time together completely alone. In their seventh year at Hogwarts, a marriage contract was drawn, and they were married shortly after their graduation.

Draco knew that he wasn’t entering a typical pureblood relationship, and realized with a gulp that he hadn’t entered one at all. How could it completely escape his mind that Harry was not of pure blood? The Potter side was sufficient, but Harry’s mother was Muggleborn. Not only was Draco disobeying his parents by entering in a relationship with a man—lying with the same sex was expected from time to time, but was to be done in secret—but he was going to be with a half-blood wizard. How would he ever be able to tell his parents? His friends were thankfully accepting, because to them blood purity had died with the Dark Lord, but what about his friends’ parents? How would he attend parties? How would he conduct business in the Wizarding world?

Draco was getting more and more agitated by the second. He was also angry with himself for being so concerned about these trivial things. _You’re past this. What are you doing?_ He clenched and unclenched his fist in frustration. How would he be expected to act in front of Harry? Would they hold hands in the hallway? Would Harry tell anyone, or would he want to keep their relationship a secret? For once in his life Draco had fully stepped onto a new path. Asking Harry on a date sure was a step in that direction, but he could have always gone backward. Now, he couldn’t undo what he did without risking one of his greatest friends. And he was pretty sure he would never want to do that. 

He felt like he was still arguing with himself when later he entered the Great Hall. He had spent the past hour staring at himself in the bathroom mirror with Moaning Myrtle chatting in the background. Opening up to her was easy because he knew that whatever she said, people weren’t like to believe her. However, Draco still took care to leave specific names out of the situation. Myrtle wouldn’t suspect the boy he was talking about was Harry Potter, considering she witnessed what she thought was the two of them trying to kill each other two years prior. 

“Weren’t your parents the one who made you do bad things in the first place?” Myrtle crooned from beside him. He was now sitting below the sink, knees drawn up to his chest. Most of the time he felt much older than eighteen, but right now he felt very small. He nodded, touching his forehead to his knees. “Then you shouldn’t worry about what they think. You should be happy. If I had lived, I wouldn’t have listened to my parents.”

It was easy for Myrtle to say that, partially because she was dead. She didn’t have to live with any of the consequences of her actions. _Probably not the best move, being jealous of a dead person_. Draco tried to clear his head as he moved toward his friends, and then startled as he noticed that Harry was already sitting with them. There was a spot in between Harry and Blaise where Draco assumed he was going to sit. Daphne picked at her food across from Harry, and Greg also looked uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” Harry said, smiling at Draco. Though Draco still felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, he couldn’t help but smile back. When he sat down, he made sure to touch his leg to Harry’s under the table.

“Harry said he was sitting with us today.” Blaise sounded somewhat unhappy next to Draco, and gave him a look that Draco couldn’t decipher.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to catch you guys before dinner.” Draco used to order Vincent and Greg around all the time without giving them much prior notice of what was happening. But things were different this year, and he knew that it would have been more ideal to tell his friends. “Is that alright?” he finished, looking toward Greg.

Greg smiled at him. “Of course it is, mate. A friend of yours is a friend of ours.” Blaise scoffed, and Daphne glared at him.

“I appreciate that,” Harry said to Greg. He looked somewhat at ease, but his bouncing leg beside Draco gave away some of his anxiety. “I know this is weird, and I know it hasn’t been easy for you guys to be back at school. But—“ Harry looked at Draco, silently asking if he could mention anything. Draco smile and nodded. “—Draco and I have begun dating.”

Daphne finally smiled and put her fork down. “Finally! I knew it. Oh, I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Well, we’re still keeping it quiet. Give Harry time to change his mind about his reputation getting tarnished,” Draco stabbed at his food.

“Hey, it’s not like I’m not used to it,” Harry said good-naturedly. 

“It’s not the public you have to worry about,” Daphne said, putting her silverware down and leaning forward. “It’s us.”

Draco and Harry both stopped what they were doing to make eye contact. “Pardon?” Harry said, on the defensive.

“You hurt him, and you’ll have to answer to us.”

“Daphne!” Draco exclaimed, mortified.

“He may look all tough on the outside, but his emotions run deep. Especially this upgraded version.” Blaise and Greg nodded along with her.

“Now wait just a second—“

“—so you better make sure you’re serious about all this before you get too far. It’s not going to be easy. People on your end are going to be angry with Draco, people on our end are going to be uncomfortable since you two can’t produce an heir. They may think you’re holding something over Draco’s head, too, since you’re not even a pureblood. If you’re not ready for the full wrath of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you may as well tell us now and take your leave.” While Draco certainly didn’t like Daphne claiming that he wasn’t actually tough, she had a point about the pureblood families. He remained silent while Harry contemplated this.

“I don’t want to invalidate your concerns at all, but I’ve been through quite a lot in the past few years. We all have,” he added quickly. “I really do care about Draco though. I want this to work and I’m willing to take the risks, so long as Draco is.”

Daphne, Blaise, and Greg all looked at each other for a moment, having some sort of secret conversation. Blaise nodded. “Then I guess we’ll have to get used to having you around,” he said somewhat reluctantly. Draco knew that it was out of care, though. He was surprised at how much his friends had begun to protect him. He wish he could say that he would have done the same—he certainly would now, but years ago? It was unlikely. _Don’t badger yourself over the past. You’ve changed now_. He found that Christine’s mantras were actually becoming helpful in his everyday life. 

The rest of the dinner went very smoothly, to Draco’s delight. Harry entertained them all with the story about him and Ron transforming as Greg and Vincent respectfully in their second year. They were all laughing by the time the Great Hall was closing for the evening. Draco’s friends may have sensed that Draco wanted to talk to Harry alone, as they took their leave before Draco and Harry walked back to their dorm.

Draco took Harry’s hand—a bold move, but he was feeling good. He felt even better when Harry smiled back at him. “That went pretty well,” he said tentatively, hoping that Harry felt the same way.

“It did! You’ve got some pretty shrewd friends. I rather enjoyed their company, especially given that they’re Slytherins,” Harry said jokingly.

Draco laughed, and then swallowed. His rising panic from earlier was starting to slowly make its way back up his throat. “How um...I mean, what are the parameters of this relationship?”

Harry looked extraordinarily amused. “What?”

“Like, how public is this going to be? How often should I take you out? How often should we reexamine the relationship? The standard stuff.”

Harry squinted, still smiling. “The standard stuff? Sounds like a pureblood thing.”

“Well,” Draco said, contemplating. “I guess I don’t know. All my friends’ parents have marriage contracts, and I assume they began with relationship contracts. Betrothal contracts only ended in our families about a century ago. And I don’t have any friends who aren’t...” He trailed off. Before, not having any friends who had mixed blood was something to be proud of, but now he was ashamed. 

Harry stroked Draco’s palm with his thumb as they climbed the stairs. Thankfully the hallways were mostly abandoned at this time of night. “I don’t think we need—actually, I don’t want us to have an agreement or a contract or anything. I’m no expert, but I’m not sure that’s the norm for all relationships.”

“Okay fine, no contract. But still, we should decide a few things. Are we...like if anyone asks, should I...”

“Tell them we’re dating? I was going to talk to you about that. Aren’t you visiting your parents this weekend?”

Draco groaned. He totally forgot about that. His parents had been just about the only thing on his mind for the past few weeks, and now that they were out of danger for the moment, he had pushed the issue out of his brain to focus on Harry. This weekend it would be time to pay the piper. “Yeah. I’m definitely not going to say anything to my father, he’s still in the hospital and he already hates me.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. “But I may be able to broach the issue with my mother cautiously.”

“Would it be dangerous if I told people?”

“What do you mean, dangerous?”

“Well, what exactly would happen if your parents found out? Like through someone else, or through the press?”

“I honestly have no idea how my father would react, especially with the way he is now. My mother I’m sure wouldn’t do anything too awful, but I do think she’d try and talk me out of it. Who were you planning on telling?”

“No one really specific except Ron and Hermione, unless someone else brought it up,” Harry said. “Mrs. Weasley may insist that you come by for Christmas if I let her know.”

“Then I’m not sure it’ll be too much of an issue. Barely anyone talks to my parents these days, and my friends won’t tell their parents. Thankfully the pureblood gossip circle is pretty closed off to outsiders.” _The one good part of prejudice._ “If the _Prophet_ finds out though, that’ll be a little bit different.”

“I’m not too keen on them finding out myself,” Harry shuddered. “Not because of you. I wouldn’t want them to find out about anyone I was dating. They suggested I was dating Hermione back in fourth year, and she actually got hate mail over it.”

Draco was horrified and certainly did not want to find out what kind of mail he would get if people discovered that he was dating Harry Potter. They pushed open the door to the eighth-year dormitory having stopped holding hands, and people paid them little mind. The other eighth years seemed to be getting more used to the idea of Draco and Harry being friends. Everyone was too wrapped up in studies to notice them anyway. 

“It’s pretty late,” Harry said. “Do you want to go chat...?” He nodded toward their bedroom. “We could work on our project together,” he said, satisfying the few curious students who had glanced up.

“Sounds good,” Draco said, and walked behind Harry to their room. He was smiling, like he had a little secret.

When Harry and Draco entered their bedroom, it seemed that they were both unsure of what to do next. It was certainly unusual to be dating your roommate, and the beds were staring at them forebodingly. “Shall we each sit on our own?” Draco suggested awkwardly.

“I dunno...” Harry said, thinking. “Wait a minute! We’re wizards!” With a wave of his wand, he conjured a small couch that could hold the two of them by the window. _Maybe Harry is, but I may as well not be one_. Draco pushed the thought of his inability to do magic away and instead clapped dramatically for Harry. 

“A true genius. Now I know how you managed to defeat the darkest wizard of all time,” he joked. He loved making Harry smile.

They both settled on the couch, facing each other. Draco, being the taller of the two, had his knees pulled up, while Harry’s toes lightly touched Draco’s legs. Draco rested an arm behind the couch and so did Harry, their hands linking together. They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Harry looked hesitant. “Can I ask you another question?”

“You just did. But of course.”

“Would you be alright if I told Andromeda?”

Draco stiffed. He had nearly forgotten about his last remaining aunt. He had never spoken to her, but he remembered the Dark Lord’s jeers about him potentially watching Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks’s child. He suppressed a shudder as he tried to drag himself out of that moment. “Is she important to you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I spend a lot of time with Teddy, I told you he’s my godson.”

“I wouldn’t really have a problem with you telling her, I suppose. But I don’t think there’s a reason to tell the kid,” he said nervously.

“Well, no,” Harry laughed. “He’s still an infant. But maybe someday?”

Draco shifted in his seat. “I...I dunno. I think it’s best that he doesn’t get to know me. Wouldn’t want to corrupt him.”

“He doesn’t have much family left,” Harry said gently. “I won’t lie, even I’m not quite sure how you two are related, but it’s something. Plus, I actually think you’d be amazing with kids.”

“What? Are you kidding me? With my parents, I don’t plan on furthering the Malfoy line at all. I wouldn’t want to inflict that on someone.”

“Forget about the Malfoy line, I’m talking about you! You’re studious, you’re fun to be around, you’re a good listener. You have just enough sarcasm to keep things interesting. Your kid would be sassy for sure, but you’ll definitely be a good father someday.”

“Harry?” Draco’s heart was pounding. He had never felt like this before.  
  
“Yeah?”

Draco put his feet on the ground, but even the solid Earth wasn’t enough to steady himself. His vision from earlier, the one that nearly produced a Patronus, came back to him now. He leaned over and touched Harry’s cheek gently. With the other hand, he brushed back Harry’s bangs, revealing his scar. It wasn’t even that big and had an almost faded quality. _How can everyone see this incredible person and only define him by this scar?_

Draco asked Harry a question with his eyes, and Harry answered it by closing his. Slowly, Draco brought Harry’s face forward until their lips touched. One of Harry’s hands touched his neck, the other caressed his back. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was electrifying. Draco never wanted to open his eyes again, but he wanted to make sure what he was doing was alright. He leaned back and watched for Harry’s reaction. His boyfriend—I still can’t believe it—smiled, and it was the greatest thing Draco had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No angst today! You guys deserve some romance. We’ll get back into sort of the “plot” next time, and we’ll see how Draco can rely on Harry now that they’re together. As always, let me know what you think! Love you guys.


	8. Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a nightmare and takes a walk in the Forbidden Forest. What a great idea!

The rest of that evening passed in a blink of an eye. Draco and Harry actually fell asleep on the couch together, after planting kisses on each other for the better part of an hour. Draco felt like he could be fully himself in front of Harry. Very few people saw the real him, saw the real way he wanted to act. His friends nowadays did, but earlier friends like Pansy and Vincent only saw the Draco who made up for his terror with arrogance. Draco had explained this to Harry, and he seemed to completely understand.

“My ‘negative’ emotion of choice to hide that I was afraid was anger. After Voldemort came back, I was furious at everything and everyone, even people who didn’t deserve it. Ron, Hermione, Sirius, they all tried to make me feel better, but I just pushed them away. I was just so mad that no one was telling me anything, and so afraid of what I would be expected to do. So I know what you mean.”

Draco frowned. “You spent time with Sirius Black?”

“Oh,” Harry said sheepishly. “Yeah, we actually stayed at his house for a bit in the summer before fifth year. I own it now, since he died.”

“That’s where he hid after escaping? The Grimmauld Place house?”

“For the better part of the last year of his life, yeah.” Then Harry looked quizzical. “How do you know it’s on Grimmauld Place?”

“My mother went to dinners there all the time as a kid. It’s a very well-known property in the pureblood families. It’s nice that you own it, even though it’s of course awful that your godfather died.”

“Well, it’s honestly not too nice of a house either. We cleaned all day every day for months and it never got any better.”

“What sort of things did you say to it?”

“To—to the house?”

“Of course, what else would I be talking about?” Harry looked extremely confused, so Draco pressed on. “Pureblood homes have ancient magic in them. If the occupant, even if it is the rightful heir, rejects the home, the home will reject him in turn.”

“So I have to, what, sweet talk the house?”

“Not necessarily, although it couldn’t hurt.” Harry started laughing, a deep sound from his belly. “I’m serious! Try it next time you’re there. Try just being nice to it, or thanking it when it does something right. Let it know that any bad things that happened in the house, or things that you’re mad about, were not the fault of the house itself. Accept the house as a home.”

“It’s hard to accept a house that has the heads of dead house elves on the walls.”

“That’s not too uncommon. Some house elves would see that as a honor, depending on how the death happened.”

Harry scoffed. “I bet my house elf would love his head planted right by the portrait of Sirius’s mum.” He then looked at Draco, with them both still being hand in hand. “Maybe you could come over? Over Christmas. And help with the house and some other things.”

Draco smiled flirtatiously. “Don’t expect to put me to work without paying for it.” Harry blushed. “I mean by getting to look at the artifacts, Potter, don’t be crass,” Draco joked.

“The artifacts?”

“Well, yeah. Every pureblood family has insanely valuable artifacts. I’m sure the Blacks have tons of fascinating ones.”

“We got rid of a lot of them in fifth year. Most of them seemed...off.”

“Yes, they’d have to be preserved in extremely monitored circumstances. The Time Turner, for example, was in a specific room in my house. Under glass cases and a lot of spells.” They were silent for a moment, contemplating how something like that could fall into the wrong hands. The more Draco thought about it, the more he was worried that his father had more to do with it than it seemed. How else could all the spells have been broken? How could someone have entered the Manor unnoticed by both of his parents? 

“Would you though?” Harry broke him out of his reverie. 

“What?”

“Would you come over for Christmas?”

“Of course, if that’s what you wanted. I’m afraid I won’t be able to invite you to the Manor, not that you would want to come.”

“That’s alright. It doesn’t matter where we are. Even if it’s at the Weasley’s.”

“Exactly, even if—what?!”

They kept chatting on like that until Harry drifted off to sleep. Draco sat next to him, alternating between watching him and looking at the moon. He knew that Harry was sassy, but he was still surprised by his shrewdness. It was like he finally met his match. It usually bothered him when someone else matched his level of sarcasm, as though they were taking away one of his only unique features. With Harry, it didn’t feel like that feature was taken away, but joyfully reinforced. Harry was one of the few people nowadays that could make Draco laugh. Feeling sleepy, safe, and utterly content, Draco fell asleep.

_“Alright. After Crabbe and Goyle’s intel, we can safely assume that ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ is going to be in the Forbidden Forest tonight. We need to catch them healing each other, dueling, or doing basically anything else, and make sure that proper punishments are sorted out. Tie them up and take them to empty classrooms so that everyone can learn their lesson. Malfoy and Parkinson, you’ve got the leaders: Longbottom, Weasley, Finnigan, and the other seventh years. Crabbe and Goyle, you take any other sixth and fifth years. Zabini, Greengrass, Nott, you take the rest. You can be a little easier on first and second years, so long as they beg. Remember, we’re not out to do long term damage to the young ones. As far as the older ones, all bets are off.” The Carrow siblings were grinning as they schemed in their office, with the Slytherins sitting in various states of excitement and distress around them._

_“Remember, we’ll be watching,” Alecto said. “We’ll come around to each classroom to check on things once in awhile. So don’t get any ideas about going easy on anyone.” She looked in particular at Pansy and Daphne. Pansy looked determined, while Daphne looked down at her feet. “Is that clear?”_

_“Yes Professor,” they all spoke monotonously. Taking their leave, they donned their black cloaks and walked into the cool early October night. They didn’t speak. Draco took the lead, shaking off Pansy’s hand when she tried to take it. She scoffed and rolled her eyes as she stalked away. They hadn’t been getting along lately, which wasn’t unusual. They often bickered throughout their childhood, each playing a game of chicken to see who would apologize first. This time, their arguments were much more intense, with Pansy sometimes even throwing furniture around the classrooms they occupied as they slung insults at each other. Draco’s real frustration wasn’t with Pansy. But he couldn’t talk to her about anything that happened this summer, anything that he was really frustrated about._

_The raid wasn’t as easy as the last one. It appears Dumbledore’s Army was learning new techniques for seeking out the Slytherins. Their cheap invisibility cloaks, purchased by Snape, left faint shimmers of light wherever they walked, so it wasn’t impossible for the others to trace their steps. Spells flew extremely quickly, with one tree even getting set on fire in place of Vincent’s head._

_Draco tended to hang back during these battles and observe weaknesses. The Weasley girl looked forward far too much and often left her back open. Longbottom tended to look out for his friends more than for himself. The older kids formed a circle around the few younger children they had somehow convinced to join their rebellious cause, which Draco found sickening. Why would they drag children into a resistance, knowing that the price was torture and mutilation?_

_Draco tried a new technique that his Aunt Bella taught him. He used Occlumency to try and anticipate his opponents’ next move. He knew exactly when to use Expelliarmus on Weasley and Longbottom, by far the two most difficult opponents. The difficult part was, even with their hands bound and defenseless, they refused to give up the first years inside their circle. Once nearly everyone was tied up, and the rest wandless, Draco stepped out of the shadows._

“ _Fucking coward, Malfoy,” Weasley spat blood on the ground. “Too scared to fight us in the open?”_

_“Too smart,” Draco said. “I won’t lie. You’ve gotten better. But you’ll never be good enough. You know that, right? Even if you become better than us, you’ll never be better than the Carrows. Give it up, Weasley.” It seemed like a taunt, but it was more begging than Draco liked to admit._

_“Never,” Longbottom answered. “Harry’s going to kill Voldemort, and then it’ll be over for you lot!”_

_“I don’t give a single FUCK,” Draco yelled, losing his temper. “About Harry Potter. I hope he dies. He’s been a nuisance for seventeen years, and this world would be better without him in it.” Did he mean those words? He didn’t know. But he was so, so angry. He should be studying, he should be having fun with his friends, he should be preparing for marriage. The Dark Lord was in his house, Potter was on the run, and he was reduced to a minion. It felt even worse than the extraordinarily patronizing Inquisitorial Squad._

_Later that night in the bathroom, after he had emptied his stomach and when he was washing the impure blood off his shaking hands, he made a promise to himself. If Potter lived, he wouldn’t apologize. He’d stick to his principles because his father couldn’t. Even if it meant his lifetime imprisonment. And...if Potter died...at least he wouldn’t have to make any more difficult decisions._

This wasn’t a conventional nightmare. Draco didn’t wake up screaming or crying. He woke up and first had to check if his hands were wet and, by habit, if his tongue was still in place. As soon as he moved, he felt the pull in his stomach and the lump in his throat. He launched up from the couch and stumbled to the bed pole, trying to steady himself. It was no use. He barely found his way to the bathroom before he collapsed in front of the toilet, heaving. He hadn’t thrown up from a nightmare in a while, and he found the sensation to be unpleasantly familiar. 

As he sat back, breathing deeply, he realized that part of him expected Harry to come in and comfort him. Apparently the sound of his retching hadn’t woken Harry this time. He hugged his knees and wiped his face, wanting some comforting. He wondered if it would be okay to wake Harry up and confess his terrible thoughts. At the same time, the thought of doing so made him even more nauseous. How could he date that same person that, only a year ago, he wished dead? Why would Harry want to date him, after a confession like that?

He walked back slowly into their bedroom. Harry was still asleep on the couch, mumbling a little, but not appearing to be in the grips of a nightmare. Draco sighed and took his duvet from his bed, covering Harry with it. He was careful not to wake Harry, and the man turned over and let out a small noise of appeasement. Draco left their bedroom, heart still racing, wanting someone to talk to. He went out to the common area, but it was empty. He almost wished that Granger was awake, stirring her tea, waiting to draw something out of him like poison. But no one was there to startle him like she would. He doubled back and raised a hand to knock quietly on Blaise’s door, then put it down. Mind Healer Christine had always encouraged him to reach out if he felt like he needed to talk to someone. But that felt like asking a lot of him at the moment. Finally, Draco decided to take a walk outside, even though he could get caught and reprimanded. 

Though he welcomed the pain of the cold, part of him wished he brought his coat. It was nearing mid-November now, and it almost smelled like it was going to snow. He made his way out of the castle and down toward the Forbidden Forest. His feet were tracing the same steps that he so often took to perform raids on Dumbledore’s Army. He wondered if the DA was still active. Harry hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and there wasn’t much of a need. He almost envied them—a close group of friends that practiced dueling. Draco found that his spell work left more to be desired, especially after an insane rotation of Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, some of whom were incompetent. Then again, he couldn’t join any dueling group now with the manacle on his wrist. 

He made his way through the outer layer of the forest, relaxing as tree branches cracked beneath his feet. The fresh air was doing him some good, and he enjoyed watching various small creatures creep by him, unaware that they were in the presence of a Death Eater.

“What are you doing?” A sharp voice called, startling him nearly to the ground. Ginny Weasley stepped out from behind a tree, her wand shining in Draco’s face. The blinding light obscured her facial expression, but Draco knew it couldn’t be friendly.

“Just—just out for a walk,” Draco said while squinting, putting up his hands to shield his face from the strong _Lumos_ spell. “Could you tone that down a bit?”

“No,” Ginny said. “You need to leave.”

“Why do I have to leave?” Draco was indignant. “Do you own this forest, Weaslette?”

“Don’t push me, Malfoy,” Ginny snarled, coming closer. “Take out your wand.”

“What?”

“Take our your wand. I want to duel.” She lessened the glow of her wand, and Draco saw that her face was red and drawn. 

“I can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean, you can’t?”

“I literally can’t do magic unless a Professor unlocks this.” He held up his wrist. “You can ask the many people that attack me in the hallways; I can’t fight back.”

“Good,” Ginny said. “You deserve to be jinxed for the rest of your life for all that you’ve done.” She paused for a moment but lowered her wand, seemingly unsure of what to do with him.

“You can, if you’d like.”

“I can what?”

“Jinx me. Hex me. Torture me. If it’ll make you feel better.”

Immediately her wand was back up. “What are you on about, Malfoy? Is this some kind of a trick?”

“No,” Draco said. “No one knows I’m out here, and even if they did, you wouldn’t get in trouble. So go ahead.” Ginny seemed to hesitate, only making Draco feel angry. “Merlin, _Ginerva_ , what more is it going to take? I’ve insulted your family my whole life. It’s because of me that your brother was mauled by a werewolf. It’s indirectly because of me that another one of your brothers was nearly killed by poison. And didn’t my father plant You-Know-Who’s stupid diary into your cauldron so that you’d be possessed and—“ With a sharp pain, Draco fell to the ground. He writhed only for a moment under the familiar Cruciatus curse before the pain left nearly as quickly as it had come. He made to get up, looking at Ginny suspiciously.

“Merlin. You’re such an idiot. Get up, Malfoy.”

He complied hesitantly, barely feeling any soreness. “That’s it?”

“I’m not you, you prat.” That hurt a little, that she wasn’t going to take revenge simply because it seemed like something Draco would do, and she wanted to set them apart. “Now come on, I’m taking you back to the castle.”

Lacking the strength to argue, Draco treaded beside Ginny. His emotions were so confused at the moment that he had forgotten the girl beside him used to be with Harry. 

“Is it true that something’s going on between you and Harry?” She asked emotionlessly.

“Um...” She glared at him, as if daring him to lie. “Yes. We’re dating.”

“I thought you wanted him dead,” she fired back immediately. 

“I’ve never actually wanted him dead.” She looked at him doubtfully. “Yeah, I _said_ that, but it was really stupid and I didn’t mean it. Seeing him in that oaf’s arms—“ she poked him with her wand “—fine, Hagrid’s arms, was one of the scariest moments of my life. If you think I enjoyed the Dark Lord living in my house, then you’re right batty.”

Ginny was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t care about you in the slightest, Malfoy, not even enough to torture you like you tortured me. But I care about Harry a whole awful lot. Regardless of our history, he’s like a part of our family. So if you’re just being cheeky, you better stop and consider who all you’re messing around with. It’s not just Harry. You’ll have a whole army after you, literally, if you hurt him.”

“I know,” Draco said truthfully. “I’m going to do everything I can to not let that happen.” Seemingly satisfied, Ginny nodded and let him go once they reached the grounds of Hogwarts. She didn’t follow him inside, but went to return to whatever she was doing in the Forbidden Forest. Draco wondered if she was doing alright.

Draco didn’t waste time going back to his room—he had been risky enough for one evening. He entered silently, finding Harry in the same position in which he left him, except more stretched out. There was no more room on the couch. Draco kissed Harry’s forehead, grabbed a pillow from his bed and Harry’s duvet, and slept peacefully next to him on the floor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. It looks like word is getting around the school somehow that Harry and Draco are involved. How do you think the other students will react? What more do you want to see? I can’t wait to write holiday scenes in this fanfiction!
> 
> As always, all comments are appreciated so so much. I love you guys!


	9. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An enemy finds out that Harry and Draco are officially dating, and Draco heads home for the weekend.

Draco had decided not to tell Harry about his nightmare the previous night, or about the encounter he had with Ginny Weasley. Apparently she decided to also keep it a secret, because Harry didn’t mention anything to him. Time passed normally throughout the rest of the week. Draco and Harry did make a conscious effort to increase the amount of time they spent together in public to test the waters. Harry would go to dinner with his friends on the earlier side and then would stay for Draco and his friends. Draco assured Harry that his avoidance of seeing Hermione and Neville wasn’t due to dislike, but because he wanted to avoid jeers from others. Blaise, Daphne, and Greg were really coming around to like Harry, though. Harry and Greg both had a soft side, and he could bicker playfully with Blaise for the whole meal. Daphne and Harry didn’t speak much, but she was always kind to him. 

Harry once looked hesitant after he and Draco walked back from one of these dinners. “If I’m intruding, I hope you’ll let me know. I don’t want to mess with your friendship bonds.”

“You’re really not,” Draco said. “To be honest, we’re just getting to know each other anyway.”

“Really?” Harry tilted his head. “I hadn’t seen you with Daphne or Blaise much, but I thought you and Greg were thick as thieves.”

Draco shrugged, feeling a little guilty. “They were mostly my...henchmen I guess. That’s putting it a little nicely as it is. Especially toward the end. I just bullied them into doing whatever I wanted. We never talked about much else. To be quite truthful, they never really talked to me, it was mostly me droning on and on...you should know, you were Greg once!” 

Draco wasn’t exactly trying to be funny, but Harry laughed anyway. “That is true. You did complain about me for a full ten minutes, and I couldn’t even get a word in to contribute.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know that you’re a really good friend now, right? They care about you a lot.”

“I hope so,” Draco replied. “I really care about them. I don’t know how I would have gotten through these past few months without them. Or you,” he said, squeezing Harry’s hand.

It was at that unfortunate moment that Zacharias Smith saw this exchange. “Well,” he said, smirking. “What do we have here? Not only does Harry Potter like it up the arse, but he likes Death Eaters?”

Harry let go of Draco’s hand which was now beginning to shake. “Back off, Smith. You need to stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, or you might lose it.” Harry reached into his pocket to take out his wand.

Smith raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Woah, no need to lose your cool, Mr. Potter,” he said mockingly. “Wouldn’t want you to lose your high honor status at the Ministry in some school brawl. I was just commenting on how...surprised I am, that’s all.” Harry’s hand hesitated in his pocket. Apparently he didn’t expect Smith to back down. “So, is this like...a secret?” 

Smith sounded far too curious for Draco’s liking. “No,” Harry retorted. “It’s just very new. You could proclaim it to the whole castle if you’d like, but I doubt anyone would care.” Draco understood why Harry was saying that, but it still terrified him. Smith would love to know that Draco was scared of people knowing, and then he would do exactly that—tell the whole castle. It was best to let him know that wouldn’t affect Draco or Harry—even if that was a lie.

“That’s probably true...” Smith said, hand on his chin. “What about your parents though, Malfoy? They’re out of Azkaban—well, for now. Do they know?”

“Don’t—“ Harry started.

“No need, Harry, I can speak for myself.” Thank goodness Draco found his voice. He knew that sometimes saying nothing was the worst thing one could possibly do when faced with a bully. He had been on both ends of that—he loved it when first years cowered before him, and he hated it when he felt powerless in front of the Dark Lord. “They don’t mind my personal life too much. They have other concerns. I’m sure your parents are concerned about your lack of suitors, though. Need any advice?” Inwardly, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Somewhere, deep down, the snarky old Draco Malfoy was still there, able to release comebacks and be a jerk when needed.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Draco only pointed to a lack of suitors as a guess, but it seemed to hit the nail on the head of Smith’s temper. “You’ll get yours, I’m telling you.” And with that he stalked away. 

Draco let out a huge sigh once Smith was out of sight. “The whole castle’s going to know tomorrow, aren’t they?”

“Probably,” Harry admitted. “At least you’ll be out for a bit, let people focus on something else. Gossip doesn’t stay in the same place for too long at this school.” 

_Um. Has Harry ever attended Hogwarts?_ Gossip may flitter back and forth, but it always seemed to center around Harry Potter in some way. Draco knew this was only the first of many negative interactions he would have about his relationship in the next few months, and he was already exhausted from it. But, students could be handled, or ignored. _Would Smith really tell my parents?_

Draco knew that he was about to find out. Harry was sitting on his bed, watching Draco pack on Friday afternoon for his weekend visit to Malfoy Manor. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

Draco hesitated for a few moments. He felt guilty about just how nervous he was. He was going home, he was going to get to see his mother—these were all good things. Only in the past two years did he start to want to stay at Hogwarts rather than be in the comfort of his own home. “I don’t want to lie to you,” he said. “I am. Particularly to see my father.”

“Has he improved any since he’s been in Mungo’s?”

“I’m not sure,” Draco said. “My mother hasn’t been able to visit him yet. Since she’s on house arrest, the visits have to be Ministry scheduled.” He shifted the clothes one more time and then closed his trunk. 

“I have something to give you. Before you go.” Draco smirked. “No, nothing like that,” Harry objected, blushing again. Draco loved messing with him in that way. Someday those jokes would actually mean something, and he couldn’t wait for that. Harry pulled something out from beneath his desk. It looked like two very old, bound journals. 

“A notebook?”

“Not just any notebook.” Harry flipped the book over, revealing the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes logo. “These are new from the shop. Meant to make it easier to pass notes in class, but it’ll work for this purpose too.” He set both notebooks on the desk and opened them to a blank page. “Go ahead and write something in yours.”

Draco took a quill and wrote “ _Hello Harry_ ” in one notebook. He gasped as he saw it appear on the other notebook. 

“Cool, right? The idea came from a Muggle technology called texting.”

“I thought this was banned,” Draco said. There were magic journals where someone could write something and it would appear somewhere else, but everything that had been written would disappear after a while. It made it difficult to collect evidence in court cases, so that type of magic had been banned a few decades ago.

“The conversation stays in the notebook though, so it isn’t dark magic. I’m honestly surprised that no one has thought of it sooner. This way, we’ll be able to stay in touch while you’re gone. There are a few limitations though—you can only write up to two sentences at a time before the other person has to respond in turn. But it’s faster than sending letters.”

“This is brilliant,” Draco said. “Thank you, love.” He pulled Harry into a hug and kissed his forehead. He held on for a few seconds longer than usual, taking in Harry’s scent and gathering strength from it. 

Before long, it was time to say goodbye. Unfortunately the Malfoy Manor Floo had been permanently shut down shortly after Narcissa got there. They were still trying to determine how the Time Turner was stolen, so no one could go in or out without direct Ministry supervision. Draco would have to take the Hogwarts Express, where he would then be accompanied by a Ministry driver to Wiltshire. 

Draco had never taken the Hogwarts express alone before. It was unsettling. He at first picked a compartment near the door, but found himself unable to sit still. The trees whirring past him in the window made him feel sick. He decided to walk around, and spent his time going to the loo, visiting the Prefects’ cart, and walking back to the front of the train over and over. There were no students chatting or flinging magical objects at each other. There was no trolley with candies to get excited about. It was just him and his thoughts.

Draco thought about the last time he boarded the Hogwarts Express. He had no friends, had barely spoken all summer, and lacked the strength to walk far. Now he had gained a healthy amount of weight and could mostly take the staircases in Hogwarts without much trouble. He still had panic attacks, but he knew how to handle them, and he had friends to help him through it for when he couldn’t. Nightmares still plagued him, but they no longer paralyzed him, and he knew that he could drag himself out of bed in the morning no matter what. 

Perhaps the most significant change, though, was that he was actually dating Harry Potter. It had been just about a week since their relationship became official, and Draco still felt like he was in a dream. He knew that he liked Harry from the beginning of third year, when he was attacked by the hippogriff. That injury certainly did hurt, but he did exaggerate the initial pain to see if Harry would pay attention. He laughed to himself as he paced the floors.

The sky began to darken, and Draco’s heart began to beat faster with the dimming light. Knowing he still had a few hours left on his journey, he decided to settle down in a compartment and get some rest—he wasn’t sure if he would be able to get any tonight. He opened his trunk to reveal something that he stole before he left—though he hoped Harry wouldn’t notice or miss it. He didn’t want to come across as needy. He laid down on the soft train seat and draped one of Harry’s warm, Muggle jackets over him. Hoping that the smell would ward off any nightmares, Draco drifted off to sleep.

_It had always been quiet in Malfoy Manor. But not like this. Draco often listened as his mother paced the floors while he mainly kept to himself in his room. There was no longer any booming voice discussing business and politics downstairs. His father had been incarcerated, all thanks to Harry Potter and his wretched Dumbledore’s Army._

_“Draco, love, will you come down here please?” His mother called hesitantly from outside his closed door. He knew that he probably should be treating her better, but he was afraid that if he spent time with her, he would say the wrong thing. He didn’t know how to comfort her, especially when he felt like he needed comforting himself._

_He walked downstairs to find his mother sitting at the smaller kitchen table with Professor Snape. “Hello, sir,” he said politely, a little surprised to see his mentor here._

“ _Sit down, Draco. Your mother has something important to discuss with you.” Draco sat, ignoring the pile of cookies in the center of the table._

_“Dragon,” his mother started, clearly trying to think of what to say. “You know that the Dark Lord is back, and that the mission at the Ministry of Magic ended...poorly.” Draco nodded. What he really wanted to say was, “you know, I had wondered where Father was this whole time,” but even he sensed the severity of the conversation, and kept the sarcastic remark to himself._

_“The Dark Lord is very upset with the Malfoy family,” Snape continued. “He sees your father as a failure, which is not an entirely inaccurate assessment.” Draco felt too numb to argue. “If this continues, your family may be in danger.”_

_Draco looked at his mother as if he were seeing her for the first time. His mother, in danger? He only ever thought about his parents’ deaths once, when their own parents had passed in quick secession a few years ago. He comforted himself back then with the fact that they were both still very young, and had a long ways to go before they were in any sort of danger. Now he was realizing that danger was right on his doorstep._

_“There is something you can do to help,” Professor Snape said in a much gentler tone. Draco didn’t understand, and looked to his mother._

_“But you don’t have to, Dragon.”_

_“If he—“_

_“You don’t,” she said firmly, cutting Snape off. “If you don’t want to, we will find another way.”_

“ _Want to what? What can I do?” He spoke up for the first time._

_While Narcissa hesitated, Snape wasted no time. “The Dark Lord has asked me if you would be interested in taking the Mark.”_

_Draco’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Not able to bear looking at his mother and Professor anymore, he instead glanced at the cookies on the table. They were sugar cookies with sprinkles—his favorite. Narcissa used to order Dobby to make them whenever he was upset from skinning his knee, or when he got in a row with one of his friends. He didn’t feel like he could ever touch those cookies again._

_“You can think about it,” Narcissa said after a few moments of silence. “We can talk about it later, you can sleep on it.”_

_“Do not dawdle with this decision,” Professor Snape warned. “He’ll want the answer within the week.”_

_That night truly began Draco’s two years of almost sleepless nights. He tossed and turned, having very mixed feelings. He didn’t like what the Dark Lord’s return had done to his father. Lucius had been more distant, more frustrated, and more stressed. It had been much harder to win his affection; taking the Mark could be a way to finally make his father proud. He may be second in his class, and he may not be the best Seeker at Hogwarts, but he could be the best Death Eater. It was doable._

 _Then there was his mother. He wanted her to be safe, and he didn’t want her to have to take the Mark herself. Draco only thought about the actual cause for a moment—he knew that the Dark Lord wanted to banish Muggleborns from the wizarding world, and he didn’t necessarily disagree. He thought that maybe Muggleborns should still be around to do all the jobs that real wizards didn’t want to do, like cleaning or something, but he certainly shouldn’t have to fight someone like Granger for his rightful place at school._

_He finally got up, lit a candle, and pulled out a piece of parchment. He was an orderly person, so he would make this big choice in an orderly way. The pros of taking the Mark: making his father proud, keeping his mother safe, succeeding at something, potentially being greatly rewarded later. The cons: may not be able to go back to school, potentially be on the losing side of the war, have to torture and kill people...he stopped there, because he couldn’t bear to think of any more. If he let himself think that the pros outweighed the cons, this would be a lot easier. He knew what he had to do._

_He walked downstairs the next morning to find his mother quietly sipping tea on one of the patios. She looked up, happily surprised, as he walked in._

_“I’ll do it.”_

“Oi! Get up!” Draco barely had time to register what was happening before a rough hand took him by the shoulder and pulled him up. “I don’t got all day!”

A short, bald man looked impatiently as Draco dragged his trunk off the train, then switched to lifting it with both hands. The man led him through the wall out of the Platform and to the parking lot. Draco didn’t have much familiarity with cars, and the man had to gesture for him to put his luggage in the trunk. Whenever Draco’s parents did take Muggle transport, they always had someone to do tasks like that for them. Draco took a seat in the back, and without a single other word, the man drove him to his home. Draco was lost in memories, remembering the fateful day that he dreamed about, and was home before he knew it. Draco was surprised when the driver put the car in park in front of the gates of the Manor, which were creaking open slowly. 

The man turned around to look at him. “Well then? This is your home, innit?”

Draco thought about demanding that the man take him up the nearly half-kilometer driveway, but decided against it. He began to take his time carrying his trunk up the long pathway. He took in the smells of the flowers, noticing that they had bloomed slightly since he had been here in the dry summer. Fallen leaves crunched beneath his feet, and he made a mental note to ask Tilly to clean it up, if the house elf even stayed throughout the Malfoy’s absence. 

It was incredibly hard to tell whether Draco’s racing heart was from physical exertion or from terror. He finally made it to the front door and was reaching for the knocker when his mother flung it open.

“Dragon! You’re here!” She shuffled him into the household before he could get a good look at her, and began to babble a little uncharacteristically. “They didn’t tell me when you’d be arriving and I can’t do magic now, so the house is a mess. I send Tilly to do things, but you know, I can’t actually order her to do them so it’s been a little difficult. But here—sit down.”

Draco tried to soothe his anxious mother. “Is something cooking? It smells delicious.” It was true—a warm and comforting scent wafted over to the kitchen table where Narcissa was forcing Draco into a chair.

“Oh! I’ll get them.” She walked away—steadily and with her shoulders strong, Draco noted happily—and came back with a plate of cookies. “Sugar with sprinkles is still your favorite, yes? They may not be the same, I had to make them myself, but I figured since you haven’t had them in so long—“ Draco cut off Narcissa by standing up and taking her in his arms. He was only a little embarrassed at the tears that ran down his cheeks.

“Thank you, mother. I’m sure they’ll be perfect.” And, even though Draco thought he would hate the taste forever, even though they were flat from his mother having to use a Muggle recipe for the first time, they were absolutely perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! I had a bit of writer’s block and a rough week at school. I’ll have another one out hopefully by Sunday. We won’t be at the Manor for too long—we need to see what happens when Draco gets back and the whole school knows that he’s dating The Boy Who Lived!
> 
> As always, comments are much appreciated. I love you all!


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco spends his first night at home. He receives unpleasant news from his mother, and prepares to visit his father.

It was surprisingly difficult for Draco to take leave of his mother. She was extraordinarily talkative and nearly filled all the space in the extravagant Manor with her words. Tilly the house elf was still present, but seemed less keen on taking orders than usual. Draco had to throw in a “please” when he asked her to make dinner for the two of them, though he was already a little full of cookies. He interrupted a long gossip session about Pansy Parkinson’s escapades in France to ask a simple question.

“Mum? Are you alright?”

A shadow flashed across her face before she spoke. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be alright, Dragon?”

“You’re talking a lot.” She looked offended, and Draco quickly changed his tone. “Not that that’s a bad thing! It’s just unusual.”

She sighed. “Have you ever been around Dementors, darling?” He shook his head. There had been a few that lingered around the castle in his third year, and he remember the sensation being somewhat unpleasant, but none of them had ever tried to feed off him. “They’re quite interesting creatures, actually. They feed off happy memories. Think about—think about a memory as an onion. Usually the layers of the onion never fall off. You can think about something over and over again without losing any of the memory’s value or content. But Dementors peel the layers away. Each time you think a happy thought, they steal it from you. You can only think of it with clarity a certain number more times.”

Draco was confused. “So...you could forget happy things that have happened to you?”

“No, you would still remember they happened. You just wouldn’t have any emotion to them, and the details would be less clear. I didn’t want that to happen to me. The memories I have of you as a child are some of my happiest, and I would be devastated if I even lost a little clarity on what happened. So I just talked to myself the entire time I was in Azkaban. I recited stories that I knew from when I was a little kid, I gossiped to myself about the other families, and did other things to distract myself. I didn’t want to think of anything positive once. It’s just good to have someone to talk to now.”

The thought of Narcissa trying to fill the various hallways of the Manor with her voice broke Draco’s heart. “Why don’t you get in touch with Ms. Zabini?” A few years ago, all the remaining Sacred Twenty-Eight spouses met for tea at least twice a week. Draco knew that Narcissa had been particularly fond of Blaise’s mother.

“Oh you know how she is,” Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. “She’s probably in Italy with her fourteenth husband. How she’s managed to get away with...all that, I don’t know.” Blaise’s mother was notorious for murdering her husbands after barely a year. Blaise’s father had been dead for some time, with his mother inheriting the fortune and the name. “Enough about me though, darling. How about you? Are you friends with the other Slytherins?”

“Oh yes,” Draco said. “Daphne, Blaise, Greg and myself eat dinner together nearly every night.”

“That’s wonderful,” his mother smiled. 

“Um...” Draco wanted to test the waters while there was a pause in the conversation. “Did you know that Harry Potter is my roommate?”

“I heard about that. I’m really sorry,” she said sympathetically. “But you know, even if you only use your bedroom to sleep in, that’s perfectly alright. As long as you’re talking to people and remain in good social standing.”

“Actually we’ve become...mates. He’s pretty nice. We’ve put a lot of our disagreements in the past.”

There was somewhat of a pained expression on Narcissa’s face. “That’s nice, dear. He’s a good ally to have. Speaking of your future—“ Draco didn’t realize that they had been speaking of the future. “—there’s a reason I keep bringing up Pansy. Their parents would like to come over during the holidays, along with herself.”

Draco knew what his mother was trying to bring up. _Marriage_. “Mother, I already told you—“

“I know, Dragon, but they’re being quite generous given the...circumstances. I think that we should just hear them out. I know that you and Pansy had a lot of falling outs over the past year, but both of you were in very stressful situations. It’s remarkable how different things can be when—“

“Mother, I understand that, but I really don’t want to marry Pansy. I really don’t.”

Narcissa looked at him for a moment and sipped her wine. “You sound like you have someone in mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Usually you at least let me finish my sentence before you object to my advice.” Draco did not miss the gentle reprimand in her voice. “Who is it, then? Is it Daphne Greengrass? Because I definitely think that could be arranged—“

“Actually, mum, I’m really tired. Is there any chance we could talk about this later?” Draco met her concerned eye. “I promise I’m not angry or anything, this is just...a lot to think about.”

Narcissa’s frown turned slowly into a tentative smile. “Of course, dear. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? Not too much, though, the Ministry official is coming to escort us to St. Mungo’s at nine.” 

Draco gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and then began to climb the stairs somewhat shakily. Not only did he have his father to think about seeing tomorrow, but the prospect of seeing Pansy and her family in a month was terrifying. Pansy Parkinson had been his oldest friend. They had met when they were babies, and because of their close birth dates, their parents thought that a marriage was destined in the stars for them. The two of them excited their families even further when they attended the Yule Ball together in their fourth year. 

Things took a turn during the next year. Draco was under a lot of pressure now that the Dark Lord had returned, and their parents wanted to solidify the betrothal. But Draco rejected all advances on the part of both Pansy and his parents, the latter of which had more important things to worry about at the time. However, it desperately hurt his relationship with Pansy. Finally, in sixth year, Draco had no other choice but to tell her that he was gay. She was a little smug about this, because she had worried that he liked another girl. Showing the strong bond of their friendship, she agreed not to tell anyone.

In seventh year, they argued constantly over who would take up various duties proposed by the Carrows. Draco found the sight of her annoying, and another reminder of the future that he was likely to be forced into. He assumed that she felt the same way. He wasn’t sure who she would rather have been with, but it certainly wasn’t him at that point. If he did see her again over the holidays, he wanted to apologize. It wasn’t her fault that she was a representation of everything that was wrong with his life at that point. She had suffered, too. Hopefully her travels and escape from England had done her some good.

He tentatively entered his bedroom, as though someone would be waiting for him on the other side. For some odd reason he was surprised to find the room empty. He almost expected his own ghost to be curled up in the bed like he was all summer, barely able to move and sick nearly every day. 

His suite hadn’t changed much over the years. He started out with a small crib in the corner of his room next to the window, and then immediately moved to a giant king-sized bed with green satin covers. The crib was moved out and replaced with a couch and chair set complete with a bookshelf in between. He had a window seat to overlook the gardens, and often curled up there with a good book in the summer. In sixth year he ordered Tilly to put curtains around his bed so that he could have some privacy, and some warning should someone enter. While the Dark Lord was living in his home, he would often use his dresser as a barricade. Thankfully the Dark Lord never tried to enter his room, but his Aunt Bellatrix did multiple times and often called him a coward for blocking the entrance. He just wanted to feel safe somewhere, and his room was his only option to do so.

Despite not necessarily having bad memories in the room, he felt terrified. He felt as soon as he touched his hand-sewn Slytherin blanket that was draped toward the bottom of his bed, he would be instantly paralyzed. He felt as though if he sat on the bed for a moment, all the progress he made would disappear, and he would disappear into the bed with it. Instead he made for the window seat, a place which had sat cold for nearly an entire year. The gardens looked better now, but had been mostly gray and brown for the past year. It was no use looking at a view to remind him of the state of his life. Now the sun was out and he could be comfortable there again. He settled down and took out his new notebook

_Hello? Is this working?_

_Yes, it’s good to hear from you. How are you, long day?_

Draco smiled as his mind read the words in Harry’s voice. _Yes, my mother is not as well as I had hoped. I am going to see my father at nine tomorrow._

_Are you nervous?_

 _Very._ Draco thought for a moment. A one-word response seemed insufficient for this type of communication. _I don’t know what to say, I can’t describe it._

_You don’t need to say anything. I’m here, even if you can’t see me._

This brought Draco’s shaking hand to a halt as he took a deep breath, internalizing Harry’s words. _Thank you. I can feel it_.

_Speaking of not being able to see things, I noticed a particular item missing from my dresser..._

Draco was thankfully that Harry couldn’t see him at that moment. He took off his jacket, feeling warm from blushing. _I was hoping you wouldn’t miss it._

_I don’t. But I do miss you._

_I miss you as well. That’s why I took the jacket, I hope you aren’t mad._

_Of course not. Get some sleep, big day tomorrow._

_Right. I’ll let you know how it goes._

_Goodnight, Draco. Everything is going to be alright._

_Goodnight, Harry. I believe you._

Draco fell asleep on his couch that night—he felt like he would have been at war with himself in the bed. Though some chilly air was sneaking in through the window, he only wrapped himself in Harry’s jacket. This time, it did prevent nightmares. 

“Dragon?” A voice woke him up at what he felt like must have been a very early hour. He wiped his face as he heard his mother test the door carefully—she, too, had been subject to his makeshift barricades. “It’s time to get ready, sweetheart. Our escort will be here soon, and I’m already worried you won’t have time to eat breakfast.”

“Don’t worry about breakfast, mother.” Draco quickly shifted the jacket so that he was sitting on it. His mother would know that it wasn’t his. Thankfully he managed to conceal it by the time she fully came into the room, looking like she hadn’t slept at all last night. He felt a pang of guilt that he didn’t stay up with her, make her some tea, or do something to try and comfort her. He had been so busy thinking about how he felt about seeing Lucius that he forgot what a big deal this would be for her. “We can—“ he was about to suggest they go out to brunch after seeing Lucius. _Stupid. The Ministry official would never allow that._ “We can have a nicer, sit-down brunch when we get back.”

Narcissa hated when he skipped meals, but she nodded. She really must be nervous if she’s letting me get away with that. She took her leave, and Draco got up and went to pick out another suit. He noticed a faint glow coming from the notebook and opened it up, seeing his and Harry’s previous conversation on the adjoining page along with a new message.

_Good luck today, I am so proud of you. I am here for you no matter what—you are a good person!_

It was sort of a jumble of random well-wishes, but Draco knew there were logistical limitations to the magical object. He smiled, and couldn’t find the words to respond. Even making the notebook glow with thanks wouldn’t match the brightness in his heart. 

Draco barely had time to be nervous or dawdle in getting ready. The Ministry official was early and seemed very impatient to get his job done. He fastened a manacle on Narcissa’s wrist that seemed to be the brother of the one on Draco’s. Draco wasn’t sure why Narcissa didn’t have one to begin with, but assumed that no magic, except for possibly that exclusive to house elves, could be done inside the Manor. There was no way for him to test his theory, but that was the simplest explanation. Once everything was secured, Narcissa was still a little slow on her feet, and Draco stood between her and the official. The stern man seemed so irritated that he looked ready to drag Narcissa down the steps of the Manor. 

As if by an unspoken agreement, Narcissa and Draco remained silent throughout the car journey. They were both sitting in the backseat while the escort was in front, but they only touched hands once in a while and gave each other reassuring looks. It was hard to get out of the mindset that anything they said would be used against them. And Draco knew that his parents weren’t necessarily out of the woods yet, and may never be. The journey to St. Mungo’s was brief, and they were escorted inside quickly. Unfortunately there were a few members of the Prophet waiting to snap a few pictures, but Narcissa ignored reporters’ calls, as did Draco.

“Mrs. Malfoy, is it true that your husband deliberately gave Theodore Nott Sr. the Time Turner—“

“Mrs. Malfoy, when do you think your husband will regain his sanity?”

“Draco, what are your thoughts on your parents’ trial? Why weren’t you called as a witness?”

“Young Mr. Malfoy, exactly what are your intentions with Harry Potter?” Draco blanched at this question and nearly turned around, but the escort roughly shoved him forward again. He hoped that Narcissa hadn’t heard that inquiry above all the cacophony. 

Finally they reached a private room which was under a magical lock. _Seems a bit dramatic for someone who can’t even testify at his own trial_. Draco barely had time to brace himself before he and Narcissa were shoved into the room. 

“Half an hour. Nothing more.” The escort shut the door, giving them precious privacy. 

There was nothing else in the room to look at, save for a single chair and a cart full of potions and uneaten meals. Draco was forced to look at the figure in the bed. 

“Well,” the pale man said hoarsely. “Finally decided to show your face, eh?” Lucius Malfoy looked moderately better than he had when Draco last saw him. His face had filled out, and he no longer looked like he had two black eyes. But he still had a glassy expression, and his fists were clenched at the end of his trembling arms. 

“How are you, father?” Draco decided to practice his best etiquette. 

“We should not waste time with pointless niceties.” This was more like the father Draco had known. “But, since we’re here—“ Lucius motioned for Draco to come forward. 

He clasped Draco’s shoulder—which he hated—and pulled him in closer. Draco assumed that to his mother, it looked like a gesture of affection. But his father usually only did this as a warning. 

“I know exactly what you’re hiding. I know your secret, Draco.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Do you think Lucius knows about Harry and Draco, or do you think Lucius is just messing with him? We’ll only have one more chapter back at the Manor, and then we’ll go to Hogwarts. Do you think Draco will get around to telling his parents that he’s in a relationship before the Parkinson’s return? 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated! I love you guys. Also note that this fanfiction will be slightly shorter at 20 chapters (unless I change my mind). Who knows what I’ll do after that!


	11. Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco visits his father in the hospital. His return to Hogwarts brings about an unpleasant surprise and revelation.

Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach—he stumbled a bit near his father’s bed from the shock. Lucius’s firm hand on his shoulder held him upright. Draco wanted to say more, wanted to ask his father what exactly he knew, but the moment had passed. Narcissa swooped in to kiss her husband.

“How are you feeling, darling?”

“I’m fine,” Lucius said, embarrassed. He never liked being doted on. Even when he would get sick when Draco was a kid, he shrugged off Narcissa’s attempts at assistance and carried on with his duties. “Even in spite of these poisons they’re making me take.” He gestured to the potions on the side table.

“Those potions are going to make you stronger. So you can clear your name.”

Lucius scoffed. “Darling, don’t you know that the universe is out to get us? Even if I manage to not get arrested again, they’re going to take the entire family fortune. They’re going to ruin any prospects the Malfoys have for redemption, and if they don’t, our son will.” Draco balked at Lucius speaking about him like he wasn’t in the room. Though his father sounded more lucid, the words coming out of his mouth did not.

“Draco has been very good at Hogwarts. He even has made Harry Potter an ally,” Narcissa said proudly. At any other point Draco would be grateful for her defense of him, but he just cringed inwardly. If Lucius really did know about his relationship with Harry Potter, he had to do everything he could to not bring up the Boy Who Lived—a goal which was certainly unprecedented.

Draco often spent entire summers complaining to his father about Harry Potter. In his younger years, he was still dealing with the rejection of the handshake. Later, he just wanted to talk to someone about Harry’s adventures, and his friends were not only present for most of them but were also sick and tired of hearing about them. Regardless of the topic, complaining was the only way Draco knew how to talk to his father. Lucius would in turn complain to Draco about various business partners at the Ministry, and always ended with a life lesson: “never be the first to name a price in a negotiation,” “if you’re ever faced with an opportunity to conduct business with a foe, take it and deal with the repercussions later,” and “never assume what someone knows—always ask them directly.” The last one was perhaps one that Draco should take to heart. 

“Yes,” Lucius drawled. “Our son is making friends with the one person trying to ruin our lives. Don’t you understand, Narcissa? Harry Potter is behind all of this. He’s always been out to get Draco and ruin our reputation. I’m sure he arranged for the manacle to be put on Draco’s wrist. I’m sure he told McGonagall that they needed to be roommates, so that Harry could keep a closer eye on him. And now—“ Lucius briefly looked to the side at Draco for the first time since their secret confrontation. “—now we’re in this position,” he finished awkwardly. It was clear he meant to say something else. 

“Sweetheart, I understand why you’re worried. But I really don’t think the Potter boy is interested in any of that. What would he want? Our money? He already has loads.”

“I don’t know what he wants. That’s part of the puzzle.” Lucius was starting to become agitated. 

“I think he just wants to exist,” Draco said almost automatically. Lucius turned his head sharply, but didn’t speak. “He talks in these mandatory group things we have to do about how he just wants to be left alone. I don’t think he’s after anything other than a normal life.”

Draco’s father exhaled sharply through his nose. “That is one thing that he will never have. You need to be careful, Draco. It’s fine to be close to him _for now_ , until we know more information. But you have to be ready to leave everything behind at a moment’s notice. If he puts his plans in motion, we’ll escape to one of the villas. Start a new life abroad.”

“Dear, I think you’re worrying too much.” Narcissa grabbed Lucius’s hand, which he clenched.

“How can you possibly know that?” Lucius had always been somewhat condescending toward Narcissa, who had proved herself far more capable at tasks requiring skills such as Occlumency than Lucius.

Narcissa sat on the edge of her husband’s bed and leaned in closely. “He owes us. I saved Harry Potter’s life.”

Lucius’s face contorted itself into an unreadable expression. “When?”

“It was after...their confrontation in the Forbidden Forest.” Narcissa didn’t need to name the other involved person for them to know who it was. “The Dark Lord commanded me to check to make sure Potter was dead. I wanted to know if Draco was alive, so I asked him. He nodded slightly, and I told the Dark Lord that he was dead.”

“You—“ Lucius sputtered. “You lied to the Dark Lord? You jeopardized our whole family?”

“To see if our son was alright!”

“Suppose you had gotten caught?” Lucius was nearly yelling now. “Our son most certainly would not have been alright then. This whole thing could have been over with if it hadn’t been for you. If you had told the truth, the Dark Lord could have tried again, or captured Potter. We certainly wouldn’t be outcasts!”

“Lucius.” Narcissa’s voice got terrifyingly stern. “We both were in agreement on how we wanted things to end. We wanted the same thing. I helped make that happen.”

“I recall no such conversation,” Lucius folded his arms. “We clearly do not want the same thing right now.”

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments. Draco was used to his parents occasionally bickering, but about nothing as serious as this. He almost willed the escort to come back in and announce that the half hour had passed. This was too reminiscent of what happened nearly every day for the past two years when he and his parents were together—tense silence. 

“When are they going to release you?” Narcissa finally asked quietly.

“Any day now. If not by the end of this week, there will be hell to pay. That much I can guarantee.” Lucius seemed to Draco like a pouting child who wasn’t getting their way.

“Dragon, could you excuse us for the last few moments? I’m sure you’ll be seeing your father again soon.” Draco cursed inwardly. He was hoping to ask Narcissa the same question. He desperately needed to find out what Lucius knew so that he could control the damage as much as possible. But Lucius wouldn’t make eye contact, and his mother’s gaze was pleading. He nodded to his father, not bothering to speak a goodbye, and left.

For some reason, the visit to St. Mungo’s seemed to reset his mother. Her posture was different when they got back into the car. She looked confident, strong even. Draco wasn’t sure if this was because she saw a stark contrast between her own sanity and what little remained of her husband’s or something else. But he was relieved and happy to have his mother back. The more he had been thinking about it, he was not ready to become the head of the Malfoy family. He could barely figure out his own life without having to manage billions of Galleons and investments. Some would argue that Narcissa could never be the head of the Malfoy family, but Draco no longer cared about the patriarchy. If Narcissa could defy the Dark Lord, she could run the estate at home.

After a day spent chatting with his mother about simple things, Draco adjourned to his room for the night. He had to take the train early the next morning, and he wanted time to reflect on his short visit at home. He also needed to prepare for the backlash that was surely taking place at Hogwarts. But first, he had to tell Harry the terrifying news.

The notebook was already glowing when he sat down at his desk, and he opened it to find a good-luck message from Harry about the visit with his father.

_I’m back_ , Draco replied. _It wasn’t a complete disaster._

A few minutes later _: that’s good, at least. Was your father any more reasonable this time around?_

_Sort of. But there’s something I have to tell you._

_What is it?_

_My father said that he knows my secret and what I’m hiding._

There was a long pause in between that message and Harry’s response, and Draco was terrified that Harry was going to be angry with him. _Did he mention us specifically?_ finally appeared.

_No, but I’m not sure what else it could be. If you want to back out, I completely understand._

_Of course I don’t. Like I told you, I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make myself happy, and you’re the one who makes me happy._

Draco beamed. _How are things at school? Does everyone know?_ He didn’t have to specify what he was asking about for Harry to know.

_It does seem to have spread around a little. But everything is okay._

_Is that the truth?_

Another long pause. _Honestly, it’s been a little rough. I’ve had to defend myself constantly—but I’m okay._

 _We’ll get through all this together, I promise._ Draco responded confidently, wanting to take a little bit of Harry’s worries away. _I’ll see you tomorrow._

_Can’t wait. Sleep well :)_

Harry’s colon and parenthesis looked like a little sideways smiley face, which Draco loved. He couldn’t wait to just be back around Harry. He felt so safe knowing that the Boy Who Lived was sleeping in the same room as him, not because of what Harry did in terms of defeating the Dark Lord, but because he knew he was with someone who could help him through nightmares without smirking at him in the morning, like Theo used to do, or without doting on him and smothering him like Pansy. 

Draco spent fifteen minutes pacing around his bed. The couch wasn’t very comfortable last night. He knew his bed would be. But he was terrified that he would never get up, that the comforter was poisonous somehow. Taking a second glance at his notebook though, he knew that nothing could hurt him here. Harry was still here. And even though he wasn’t in the room, Draco knew that he could do this. He was in control of his own actions and feelings. Regardless of what his father knew about him, what the people at school thought they knew about him, he knew what he was worth and what he was capable of. He got in the bed and slept soundly.

Saying goodbye to his mother was hard, even though he knew that he would see her in a little over a month. It almost seemed to be harder for him than it was for her. She had changed out of lounging clothes and into something a little more proper, a little more like herself.

“Meeting someone today, Mother? Surely you aren’t discarding Father that easily...” Draco said jokingly.

Narcissa smiled. “You were right. It’s time for me to get back into the social world, and do what I do best. Mrs. Zabini and I are having lunch later this afternoon.”

“That’s great, mum,” Draco said, using the informal name for Narcissa in a rarity. He had seen her look happy—she had smiled when he visited her in Azkaban, when she first saw that he was safe during the final battle. He had seen her laugh politely. It wasn’t as if she had spent the past year of her life in some sort of a cloud. But for the first time in a long time, Draco realized that his mother looked proud. And if she could be proud, so could he.

The train ride back wasn’t nearly as anxiety inducing as it had been a few days ago. Draco didn’t feel so alone—he felt like he could rely on his mother for emotional care again. Although thinking about his father sent nervous pains through his heart, he knew that he wanted to make it through this. During the war he had been almost indifferent about his own survival. He had just gone through the motions, not having the energy to do much of anything. But he wanted this relationship with Harry to work more than he wanted anything in his life. And he was going to make that happen, whether Lucius was in the picture or not.

He gathered his trunk, Harry’s jacket safe inside, and stepped off the train onto Hogwarts grounds near the Forbidden Forest. Strangely, though, the thestrals were not waiting to pull him to the school as he had been assured they would be. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the prospect of having to walk nearly a mile to his dorm, but shuffled his shoulder bag and started on his way. Something inside of him called out a warning, but he pushed it aside. He didn’t want to be anxious, he wanted to be excited. 

“ _Stupefy_!” He was knocked to the ground as about a half dozen students came forth out of the woods. While he was stunned and the world was moving slowly, someone took his wand from his pocket. It was too dark to see anything except for a flash of deep red.

He finally was released from the spell. “I told you, Weasley, I can’t perform magic,” he snarled, trying to hide his fear. Hopefully this was just a stupid prank and not something more malicious.

“It never hurts to be careful. Now come with us.”

“Who exactly is ‘us’?” No one answered, but Draco was pulled up roughly by someone and marched toward the Forbidden Forest. _I guess I’m about to find out whatever the Weaslette was doing down here._

The small group didn’t go far into the Forbidden Forest until they came to a small tent. It had different designated spots for flowers on the outside, and Draco could make out Fred Weasley’s picture illuminated by candlelight. Someone’s wand lit up the sign attached to the top of the entrance, which read, “DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY” and then in smaller letters, “IN HONOR OF THE FORGOTTEN.” Draco frowned. He had heard of people collectively calling those who died during the war “the fallen,” but never the forgotten. 

As soon as four figures entered the tent with ease, Draco knew it was one of the enchanted ones that wizards often carted around to sporting events. The inside had plenty of practices areas as well as places to lounge. It was still no larger than the eighth year common room, but sufficient for the size of the group. Draco was sat in a hard wooden chair, and the members of Dumbledore’s Army stood off to the side. Draco recognized Zacharias Smith, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dean Thomas, and a few other younger students whose faces he recognized but could not name. Ginny stood directly in front of Draco with her arms crossed. They all sat in silence for a few moments, which unnerved Draco more than anything else. _Will Harry notice I haven’t come back? Will McGonagall?_ He tried not to see his peers before him as threats, but they could literally do anything they wanted to him.

“Dumbledore’s Army...” Draco mused in his old sarcastic tone. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, sort of wondering why they didn’t bother to tie him up. _Because they know they don’t need to..._ “What exactly are you guys fighting against?”

Ginny didn’t bat an eye. “You tell me,” she said in a cold voice, and nodded to the wall next to them. Draco examined what he could with the faint light. There were plenty of pictures on the top, and on the bottom were mugshots. Some were crossed out with a big “X”, like Dolohov’s. Theodore Sr.’s was one of the dozen or so with no marks. Draco recognized his parents’ clean mugshots, one of which flipped up to reveal a second copy with an “X” on it underneath. And beneath their two photos was his grimacing face that he had been required to take before receiving his manacle and probation. His frown was unmarked save for a small, question mark at the top of the paper in black ink. 

Draco knew this was a simple puzzle, but for some reason his brain wasn’t cooperating. What did the “X”s mean? 

As if Ginny could read his mind, she spoke again. “Dolohov, the Carrows—they’re in Azkaban. So we don’t have to worry about them. As for the rest...”

He finally understood. They were doing what it seemed like the Ministry would not. They were doing it in honor of those who lost and were lost. They felt like everything they fought for had been forgotten, and they were trying to rectify it. They were attempting to fight former Death Eaters—and he was on their list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s what Ginny was doing in the woods! What do you think they’re going to do with Draco? Do you think Harry is going to rescue him, or is he going to have to save himself?
> 
> As always, comments are much appreciated. I love you guys!


	12. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds out what “Dumbledore’s Army” wants from him. He reunites with Harry.

“Ah, great. You’re trying to capture Death Eaters, yeah? Well you got me, good job. It was really difficult, me choosing Hogwarts as my secret hideout and all. It’s been so hard being on the run—”

Dean Thomas released a Stinging Hex on Draco’s cheek that felt just like a good slap. “This is an interrogation, Malfoy. You’ll only talk when it’s to answer our questions.”

Draco looked before him and almost felt sorry for the ragtag bunch. Clearly Harry did not know about this—he couldn’t have. If he did, they would be better suited for an actual interrogation. Draco was still not bound to the chair. Some of the younger teens with the group were trembling. Only Weaslette invoked any real fear in him. He knew that she tortured him only a few days ago, and she would probably do it again if she got the chance. “So ask your questions,” he said stiffly.

“What exactly are your intentions with Harry?” Ginny never broke eye contact.

“I have no intentions.”

“But you two are dating.” It was a statement, not a question. But there was no malice behind it. Draco didn’t think the reason for Ginny doing this was jealousy.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You see, when two people really really like each other—“ Another slap. “That’s a ridiculous question! Because we want to? Because we like each other?” Draco was exasperated. “You’re trying to find Death Eaters and you choose to interrogate me about my relationship status? Why don’t you make yourselves useful and focus on an actual threat.”

“You _are_ an actual threat, Malfoy!”

“I literally cannot perform magic, Weasley!” Draco’s tone dripped with malice.

“It doesn’t matter! You didn’t need any of your own magic to curse Katie Bell, did you? To nearly poison Ron? Or to let the Death Eaters into the castle, one of whom mauled Bill nearly to death? Your father didn’t need magic to plant that stupid diary into my cauldron. When is everyone going to realize that you don’t need magic to do serious damage?” Draco knew that Ginny was a very strong person, but she seemed to be in near tears.

“I did not mean to poison Ron,” Draco said evenly. “Nor did I mean to curse Katie Bell. Those were incredibly stupid mistakes caused by my reluctance to perform the actual task before me.”

“Yes, which was killing Dumbledore. That makes all those accidents really worth it,” Zacharias Smith drawled, much like Draco did when he was trying to annoy someone.

“We can debate about everything I’ve done wrong for years,” Draco said. “But what exactly do you want?”

Ginny bit her lip, and Dean stepped forward, placing a hand on her arm. “You need to stay away from Potter,” he said, using Harry’s last name despite them being in the same house.

“I need to do no such thing. Also, we’re roommates, in case you’ve forgotten.” 

“Anthony and you will switch,” Dean said. “You can be roommates with me. I won’t bother you if you leave me alone.”

Draco scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’s why you hexed me on the Quidditch pitch, and did it again just a few minutes ago.”

“I’m serious, Malfoy. Take this deal. It’s better than Azkaban.”

“What makes you think I’m going to Azkaban?”

Dean and Ginny shared a look, and then Dean went to a nearby table and picked up a small package. He handed it to Draco—it had his name on it in familiar handwriting. Draco turned it over and found that the seal had been broken. He looked inside to see a small clock hanging on a golden chain...

He dropped it like it was a burning hot pan, and his heart dropped with the package. “Where the hell did you get this,” he growled. Things were getting serious now.

Dean at least had the sense to look sheepish. “We’ve been searching your mail. This was included.”

“How the—how the hell are you searching my mail?” Draco can’t imagine what would have to be involved to stop each and every owl that could possibly be carrying something for him. And they couldn’t have opened everything—what about the poisonous letter?

“We made a deal with the house elves who clean the Owlry...it doesn’t really matter. The point is, we’re not going to let you bring You-Know-Who back. We’re not going to let you trick Potter.”

“What—I wouldn’t even want to bring the Dark Lord back. I really wouldn’t. And even if I did, I’m not sure what my relationship with Potter has to do with this.” Draco felt sick. He was so incredibly _angry_. All of sixth year, he nearly hoped someone would notice what he was trying to do and put a stop to it. Now that he wasn’t doing anything, he was being accused. It was a horrendous way of the universe balancing. 

“Yeah right. We know that you’re going to figure out how to get close to Potter now, go back and time and do the same thing, and then prevent You-Know-Who’s death.”

“I really am not. I have no idea how you got that, I have no idea where it came from. You all are grasping at straws just to make yourself feel better. I have no reason to go back in time and do all of this.”

Ginny continued, not looking terribly angry. Did she believe him? “Okay, let’s say that you had nothing to do with this. Let’s say someone is trying to plant this in your possession to frame you. Even so, you don’t know Harry, Draco. He’s still really fragile. He’s not doing as well as he seems after everything. He needs something easy, something stable. If you truly care about him, you won’t mind waiting a few years. If it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back to each other. But he doesn’t need his right now. You have to understand that.”

Draco felt a burn on his wrist, knowing the manacle was preventing him from a magical outburst. “I—you—“ he was rarely at a loss for words. “What I _understand_ is that Harry _needs_ people to stop telling him what he does and doesn’t need! He’s a human being for Merlin’s sake!”

“Yes, and you know him so well from your years of tormenting him,” Ginny said cooly. Draco hated the way that made his heart feel.

Everyone was silent for a few moments while Draco ran his hands across his face. He was so enormously tired. “So what are you saying? If I don’t break up with Harry, you’re going to...”

“Turn in the package,” Dean finished. “Tell the truth. Say that we were worried so we were looking through your mail, and we found the missing Time Turner in a package addressed to you. But, if you do stay away from him and just keep to yourself for the rest of the year, we’ll destroy it for you. No one will ever know that you have it.”

“I DON’T HAVE IT, YOU DO! I’VE NEVER HAD IT!” Draco was shouting now, his right arm burning all the way up, just like the Mark did, as his body begged to release some of its anger in the form of magic. “This is just a fucking ruse so that you all feel better about the fact that you can’t change the past. No one can, not even with that goddamn Time Turner. The people you love are hurt and dead, and you want someone to blame. It’s not going to be me this time.” Draco stood up to leave, but a burly looking Ravenclaw blocked his path. 

“It’s your choice, Malfoy,” Ginny said, though she didn’t move from her spot. “What’s it going to be?”

Draco sighed. The Ravenclaw in front of him flexed his wand arm in warning. “Give me a week,” he said dully. “To get things in order.”

He didn’t turn around to watch Ginny’s face. The Ravenclaw finally stepped forward, allowing him to exit the shack, and he knew that he had a deal. He had a week to fix this.

The walk back to the castle made Draco’s legs quiver with each step. He jumped every time a tree branch shook. So many questions spun through his mind. Did anyone know about the resurrected Dumbledore’s Army? Did Professor McGonagall know, and that’s why the thestrals weren’t there to take Draco up to the castle? And, perhaps most importantly, why in the world was Draco sent the missing Time Tuner? Who sent it?

Draco cursed, realizing how stupid he had been back in the shack. He should have made a run for it with the Time Turner. If he turned it in himself, he probably would not have gotten into much trouble. He also should have triple checked to make sure it was the one stolen from the Malfoys’—there could be others in existence. The “hows” and “whys” didn’t matter, though. What was he going to do about Harry? He tried to push down any doubt he had about his relationship with the Chosen One.

_You knew there would be consequences. You knew something like this would happen, and you warned him. He didn’t care._ Draco considered the idea of just telling Harry that he was being blackmailed. But then he thought about how Harry clenched his fist when potions accidentally exploded in class, or the way his shoulders tensed every time someone approached him in the Hogwarts hallways—which was nearly all the time. Ginny Weasley was right to some extent—Harry needed to relax. This wouldn’t be the way to help him do that. Draco had to solve this problem on his own.

Then again, when was he ever good at scheming? His plans in sixth year had nearly killed two students unintentionally. Perhaps he could confide in his friends from Slytherin. Then again, they weren’t looked upon favorably by society as it was. He didn’t want to involve them unless it was absolutely necessary. 

Shivering under the new moon, Draco stepped into the castle and trudged up to his room. Everyone must have been finishing up dinner at this point—it was nearly nine o’clock. The common room was void of anyone who cared about him anymore. His friends were likely eating late, and those who despised him were probably still holed up in the shack. He shifted his trunk and turned the doorknob to his bedroom.

“Hey!” Draco had been quite numb during the entire walk over, but seeing how Harry’s face lit up when he entered the room brought forth all of his emotions. He was angry, scared, and thrilled at the same time. 

Draco crossed the room quickly, dropped his trunk, and grabbed Harry’s face in his. With a hand gently on Harry’s neck, he tilted his boyfriend’s head so that their lips were able to match despite the height difference. He heard Harry give a yelp of surprise before the Boy Who Lived settled into the kiss, his posture melting. Draco steadied him by lowering him to a bed—whether it was Draco’s or Harry’s didn’t matter in the slightest in that moment. 

Draco sat down with Harry, and the two never broke their kiss. It was long and deep but still awkward—they hadn’t done this very much, hadn’t gone far at all. Draco gasped for breath between kisses, barely keeping back tears, and tried to express the urgency through his body that he couldn’t convey to Harry with his words. He felt blood rush to every organ and every patch of skin, and noticed a tightening below. He shifted so that his mouth was on Harry’s neck, kissing every inch of skin he could find.

“Happy to see me, are we?” Harry said joyfully. 

“Missed you,” Draco said, not even able to form coherent thoughts or sentences. 

“Bet that’s the first time you’ve ever returned from home thinking that,” Harry said jokingly but also with a tentatively questioning tone while he traced circles on Draco’s back. 

Draco stopped and looked at Harry seriously. “I have _always_ returned from home missing you.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to pull Draco in close, taking some of the lead. He unbuttoned Draco’s suit jacket without question, but his fingers hesitated at the collar of his undershirt. “Yes,” Draco whispered. “One thousand times, yes.”

Harry took off Draco’s shirt and threw it to the ground. This normally would have driven Draco crazy, but something had already captured his sanity. He loved the boy in front of him who didn’t care about being careless with expensive things. He loved the man in front of him who loved so deeply. Draco took off Harry’s simple shirt rather quickly, and moved to unbutton his own trousers, still trying to keep one hand on his boyfriend at all times. 

Harry’s hand hesitated from its spot on Draco’s cheek, but he continued to stroke it with his thumb while he spoke. “Dray—I’ve never...I’ve never even with a woman, I—“

“It’s okay,” Draco said. He had never done anything more than a clumsy, experimental kiss with Pansy, but he wanted to reassure Harry so badly. “Nothing complicated. Just relax.” He slowly pushed Harry back on the bed—Draco’s, it turns out—and began to slip off Harry’s sweatpants instead. He ran his fingers along Harry’s thighs and stroked his member delicately, feeling it harden beneath his skin. Harry gasped with pleasure above him, and Draco closed his eyes as he inwardly apologized for every undeserved insult that this near perfect human being had received, whether they were his own or not. He took each movement slowly and made sure that Harry was truly enjoying himself. Draco resolved that he would not be a point of stress for the Chosen One. He would be the safe space for this man who used to be a boy in a cupboard under some stairs, for this man who didn’t have a proper home. Draco would be his home. 

It was only later, when they were under the covers in Draco’s bed where he thought they both belonged, that Draco let himself process what had happened earlier that evening. He tried not to tense his body, not wanting to worry the sleepy Harry that was curled against his chest. Draco wondered if Harry had thoughts of his own, and wished that he could read them through the fingertips that were grazing the top of his head. 

“I don’t care, you know.”

Draco was snapped out of his reverie, very confused. “Sorry?”

“I don’t care if your father knows about us.” _Oh_. Draco had forgot about that entire mess. How many things was he going to have to keep track of? “I mean, of course I care since it affects you. But what I’m saying is, even if he finds out, even if it gets all over the Prophet, I still want to be with you. The last time I ended the relationship, it wasn’t really my choice. It was out of necessity, I mean who has time for all that when—well, anyway, if I’m going to end things with you it’s going to be because I want to. And right now, I don’t want to.”

Draco laughed softly and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “You are so fearless.”

“I mean, I died,” Harry said exasperatedly. “And I’m supposed to care about the thoughts of Lucius Malfoy, an even less sane one than before? I don’t think so.”

“I wish I could internalize that philosophy,” Draco said sadly. 

“There’s going to be a lot of people telling both of us that we shouldn’t do it. All I ask of you is that if you break up with me, it’s because you don’t want to be with me. Then I’d accept it fully. But if it’s because of what other people are saying, it will actually break my heart.”

Draco looked up at the ceiling, now with a firm resolve. “You’re right. This is my decision, and I’ve made it.” He pulled Harry in more closely for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably one of the most difficult chapters I’ve written! I hope it’s at least halfway decent. What do you think is going to happen? What should Draco do? 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated. Love you guys!


	13. One Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco spends the next week deciding what to do, and furthering his relationship.

Draco Malfoy was not unused to bad weeks. Or weeks during which he knew he would suffer enormously at the end. Or weeks that built up to something awful happening.

The first in his memory was the week before he was going to get the Dark Mark. He had made his decision that he was going to become a Death Eater to save his family. That had felt like the hard part—he had hoped it would have been the hard part. But the week of waiting was nearly worse. His house was overrun with criminal visitors, the hallways were adorned with hush whispers about his safety and sacrifice. His Aunt Bella praised him enormously while his mother lost her temper more than Draco had ever seen, even kicking one of the house elves once. Draco was almost relieved when the day finally came for him to be Marked, though he shouldn’t have been. He couldn’t sleep the night beforehand due to anticipation, and he couldn’t sleep the night afterward due to the pain. 

The second was the week before the Death Eaters were planning to invade Hogwarts grounds, in his sixth year. He was still in bed at the hospital wing, spending his time staring at the ceiling. Strangely enough, he had absolutely nothing to do. He had given up on homework long beforehand. His only focus had been fixing the Vanishing cabinet. Now that he was done, he just had to wait to face the consequences.

There had been many more dreadful weeks after that, and many more that ended with horrifying things that he didn’t see coming. What he never dealt with, however, is a week that was so fantastic that he dreaded its end, because he knew it would end in misery. 

That perfectly described the following week for Draco. He was closer to Harry than ever. They were inching closer to a new level of intimacy. For the first time, Draco was actively communicating what he wanted to someone who was listening. Draco was better at that than Harry. Dragging information out from the Boy Who Lived was so hard partially because Draco wasn’t sure Harry knew what he wanted. 

“I mean, you know how it goes with blokes most of the time,” Draco said as he was stroking Harry’s hair one night. They had just had a make-out session, during which Harry asked to leave things where they were before they became too heated. They helped each other finish, but only with kisses and strokes with the hand. “Usually one is on top and one is on bottom.” Draco didn’t actually know if this was true, but it was what he heard from some of his more crude classmates.

“I just don’t know which I’d want to do. How would I? I’ve never been with anyone,” Harry said, stressed. “I mean, do you know which you’d want?”

“No,” Draco said truthfully. “I don’t know how anyone is supposed to figure this stuff out.” Harry was silent for a moment. “Hey,” Draco said, wanting to get his attention. Harry looked up at him. “You know that we don’t have to do this now, right? Rush any of it? I’m happy with you. I’m happy to have you sitting with me, I’m happy talking with you, I’m happy doing anything with you. Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Harry smiled. “Me too. It just feels like it’s something that we should be doing, you know? I mean I hear Hermione and Ron talk about it...” 

Draco pushed aside a bit of disgust at the thought of Weasley and Granger having sex. “I think it’s high time we stop letting other people tell us what we should be doing.” All of a sudden, a switched flipped in Draco’s mind. This conflict with the Time Turner wasn’t out of hand yet. He could take control.

He looked down at Harry, who was now dozing peacefully in his arms. Ginny Weasley was definitely right about one thing. His plans often had horrible, horrible consequences for innocent people that he never answered for. People were forgiving him really easily, but what had he actually done for others? There was no way he could drag Harry into this mess again. He needed to figure this out—not on his own, but by asking the right people for proper help.

That’s how Draco found himself waiting outside Professor McGonagall’s office. Surprisingly, she was the one he felt most comfortable approaching. She rarely spoke to him outside of class during his formative years, and therefore he never felt incredibly judged by her. Since it was somewhat of a spur of the moment decision to visit her, and it was the end of the week, he wasn’t able to ask her beforehand and get the password to the office. He sat quietly with his head on his knees, falling into a doze. 

_Draco stumbled a little on his way to Professor McGonagall’s classroom. He probably should have slept a little bit more last night, but he was so close to fixing the cabinet. He could feel it. But surviving without meals and with very little sleep was beginning to take its toll. And instead of catching up on some of that, or continuing to work on the cabinet, where was he? Sentenced to detention with McGonagall for not turning in a stupid Transfiguration assignment. Why did that matter, anyway? Nothing else mattered, except for getting this task done so he could protect his family. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone stand in his way._

_He knocked clumsily at the door. “Come in.” He opened the door to reveal Professor McGonagall surrounded by pieces of parchment, some floating next to quills in the air. “Good to see you, Mr. Malfoy, please take a seat.”_

_Professor McGonagall explained their task today—she needed help grading and then compiling middle-of-the-year reports for the younger students. Draco set to work without saying a word. He stared at the parchment in front of him, trying to decipher the shaky handwriting. He thought it was probably a Mudblood, too used to those bizarre, messy writing utensils that Muggles in primary school had. He glanced briefly at the answer key Professor McGonagall provided, then realized that the handwriting of the student wasn’t the problem. The neat handwriting of his teacher also shifted across the page in front of him. He looked up and realized that the objects around the room were doing the same. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes._

_“Are you alright, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor McGonagall asked quietly from somewhere behind him._

“ _Yes,” he said tersely. He could fake it for an hour. It would probably pass, anyway. His heart was racing uncomfortably, though, and he wasn’t even nervous. A sharp pain that started in his abdomen reached his lungs._

_Professor McGonagall sighed, and he heard her push back her chair and come before him. He didn’t want to meet her eyes, and focused on making sure his hands weren’t shaking. She dropped a biscuit in front of him, and conjured a glass of water. How long had it been since he had eaten a proper meal? He wasn’t sure why it was so hard to do lately. Greg had even offered to bring him something, if it was because of the time constraint that he never went to the Great Hall anymore. But he always declined, letting the pit of dread continue to fill his stomach. However, it would not be good if he blacked out in this classroom, so he took a bite of the cookie._

“ _I must say, Mr. Malfoy, I am quite surprised at your lack of academic rigor this term,” Professor McGonagall crossed her arms. “You are usually quite studious, despite distracting yourself with dramatic escapades and disputes.” Draco remained silent. He felt like he was being interrogated. First Professor Snape, now this. He really hoped that his mentor hadn’t mentioned anything to the Headmistress. “Is there anything you would like to tell me?”_

_Finally, Draco did meet her eyes. “No, Professor.” He was working on opening the door to the Vanishing Cabinet—he could afford to close this one._

_“_ Mr. Malfoy?” The same voice in his mini-dream startled him awake from a half sleep. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Draco sprung to his feet, suddenly nervous. “I just...I was wondering if perhaps I could have a word. Professor,” he added lamely at the end, wanting to remember his courtesies. 

Professor McGonagall looked at him strangely, and for a moment Draco was terrified that she would refuse him. “Of course,” she stated. She spoke the password and he followed her up to her office. He gulped as he climbed the steps around the gargoyle. He remembered how much he hated visiting the Headmaster’s office. The last two occupants of the place haunted his dreams regularly, for very different reasons each.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled when he entered. “An unscheduled meeting, isn’t this? I’m surprised. Perhaps it has something to do with the latest rumor spreading across the school?” Draco reddened at the hint that Professor Snape knew he was dating Harry Potter.

“Now, Severus,” said Professor Dumbledore. Did the two of them have to make comments every time he came in? The other portraits kept their mouths shut. “We should not perpetuate or escalate such musings. Rather, it is for the boy to decide for himself what he wants to share.”

“A good question indeed,” Professor McGonagall said as she sat down at her desk. “What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

He couldn’t have spoken for more than half an hour, but he felt like his voice was a train where the brakes had been removed. A few times it seemed like the portrait of Professor Snape was going to interrupt him, but it was shushed by Dumbledore’s portrait. Draco told Professor McGonagall nearly everything—about the letter he had received and burned from Theodore Nott, about the newly resurrected Dumbledore’s Army (though he did not give up their location, and didn’t mention any name except for Ginny Weasley), and about the Time Turner. He did not, however, mention his relationship with Harry, but merely told the professor that he was being blackmailed. Professor McGonagall watched him evenly the whole time. A few times he paused, waiting for her to ask a question, but her silence encouraged him to continue. He felt empty by the end in the best possible way.

“Thank you for coming to me with this, Mr. Malfoy. I know that couldn’t have been easy.” Part of the reason Draco approached Professor McGonagall is because he knew that she would not mince words with him. As far as he knew, she didn’t care much about his feelings. She would tell him exactly what he needed to do, no matter the consequences. “Now, what would you like my help with?”

Draco stared at her blankly. Didn’t he just say what he needed help with? “Um...with what I just told you?”

“Yes, I am aware of your predicament. What would you like me to do to help you with it?” She said this not unkindly. When Draco was silent still, she continued. “Would you like me to inform the Minister of this situation? Would you like me to talk to Ms. Weasley myself? What action should I take?”

Draco wasn’t expecting this. Whenever he complained to his father, the first thing he received was detailed instructions about exactly what he should do. He never had to lead the other person there with him. “I just...I guess I just wanted some advice. I don’t really want the Ministry involved at all, if I can help it.”

“Are you at all willing to take the deal that the students offered you?”

Draco thought about it for a moment. He had a wonderful week. He loved being with Harry. The jeers and negative comments actually hadn’t been too bad, but Draco suspected that was because Ginny and Dean called off most of the naysayers until his week was up. Draco wasn’t sure what it was going to be like next week. He did know, however, that it didn’t matter. He wanted this bliss to last much longer than a week. “I’m not.”

Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair, considered. Then Dumbledore spoke up from behind her. “I’m not sure the members of the ‘army’ want to see you in Azkaban, Draco. I believe they think that would improve things and ease some of the pain they feel, but I’m almost certain they know deep down that is not true.”

“Then what do they want from me?” Draco was getting upset. “I’ve done horrible things, I know this, I acknowledge this. But I can’t take them back, I can’t undo the past.” Suddenly, Draco shot up. “Wait. You don’t think they want me to use the Time Turner to change the past, do you? Or that they will?”

“That would be enormously foolish,” Professor McGonagall said, but it wasn’t a ‘no’. “And complicated. I’m not sure it could even be done, and I know that it shouldn’t be done. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, have you apologized to them?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve apologized to everyone.”

“Carefully? With an acknowledgement of exactly what you’ve done?” Draco didn’t realize there was a manual on how to apologize.

“It wouldn’t matter.” Draco was avoiding the question. “They don’t want to hear my apologies, they want...I don’t know, they want me to suffer I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s true. They are good people who are hurting very badly.” Professor McGonagall sighed. “You are now beyond adulthood, Mr. Malfoy. I cannot make your decisions for you. But I certainly don’t think it would hurt for you to ask them what you can do for them.”

Professor McGonagall’s words echoed in his head later that night as he lay next to Harry. He kept going back and forth from being terrified at the power that Dumbledore’s Army had over him to almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. They were all students, they should finally be worrying about their exams and their future. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t put all this behind him. 

All of a sudden Harry stirred next to him, and then sat bolt upright in bed, knocking Draco’s teeth together as the top of Harry’s head hit Draco’s jaw. Draco noticed a cold sweat on his boyfriend’s back as Harry’s chest moved up and down rapidly. “You’re alright, you’re safe.” Draco immediately started rubbing Harry’s back, and sat up to be at his level. After a few moments of Draco continuing to coo nothings, Harry calmed down. Draco stood up and got him a glass of water, as Harry had done for him so many times. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Harry bit his lip. “It was about Fred. Him dying. That I’m used to, but...then the whole Weasley family died. And I was paralyzed, there was nothing I could do to stop it.” Harry wiped his face angrily. “I just wish it would stop. When I’m awake and doing things, I’m mostly fine. But at night, when it gets quiet, I—“ Harry broke off, no longer able to speak. 

“It was a big deal,” Draco said, answering his own question from earlier about why people couldn’t move on. “Death is forever. And I know the Weasley’s are like family to you. You’ve lost so many people, it only makes sense that you would worry about losing them, too.”

“They really are family to me.” Harry continued telling Draco about his first experiences at the Burrow, and how he felt that the small and cramped house was the most perfect place in the entire world. He talked about how protective Mrs. Weasley was, often to a fault, of him, and how special it made him feel. How he thought that no one was going to show up for him at the Triwizard Tournament, but that the Weasleys were there. As Draco listened, planting kisses on his cheek whenever a drop of water would fall there, he felt like he finally knew what to do.

The following Sunday, Draco didn’t let on that anything was wrong, with Harry or with his friends. They were finishing up breakfast in the Great Hall, with Harry having been there for two hours already after eating with his friends. Greg and Harry were chatting amicably about defensive spells, and Draco participated in the conversation as much as he could stomach. Then, cold liquid spilled down his back.

“Oh, shoot! I’m so sorry,” Dean Thomas had spilled ice cold water on Draco, who had jumped up and was trying to stop it from damaging his suit jacket. “I was just taking this to my room and I guess I slipped. Here, let me help you, Malfoy.”

Dean got a spare napkin that he just happened to have with him— _of course, for his “accidental” spill_ —and patted Draco’s shoulder with it.

“Don’t forget,” he whispered when he leaned forward. “No later than nine, tonight, in the shack.” Of course, like Draco could have forgotten.

Draco supposed that Dean used breakfast to remind him so that he would have the whole day to break up with Harry. But he did no such thing. They spent their time celebrating the first snowfall of the year, with Draco showing Harry how to ice skate on the lake above the giant squid, and Harry pelting Draco with snowballs when he got the chance. 

The hardest part was getting away at the end of the evening. Harry knew that Draco was caught up on his homework, and Draco was keeping Harry company while he did his. When the clock struck at the half hour past eight, Draco stood up from where he and Harry were perched in the common room. All the eighth years were used to their relationship after a week, and managed to keep their thoughts to themselves, especially when Harry was around. Draco didn’t want to flatter himself too much—it was more like they didn’t have the mental space to even think about him, as everyone was very busy with entrance exams into various Ministry professions.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, confused.

“I fancy a stroll,” Draco tried to say nonchalantly. “Christine told me it would be a good idea to do before bed.”

“Oh, I’ll come with you,” Harry put down his quill.

“Um, don’t you have the entire Transfiguration essay to finish? You stay, I won’t be long.” At least, Draco hoped he wouldn’t be long. 

Having finally gotten away, Draco took one more look at Harry before he left. He actually felt pretty good. Talking to Harry about the Weasley’s had made him realize how much pain lingered in them all. If he felt as bad as he did, not having lost anyone too significant in the war, he couldn’t imagine how Ginny felt. _Helpless, probably._

He no longer felt helpless. In fact, he was even a little proud of himself. So far, he hadn’t involved anyone needlessly in his latest crisis, but he hadn’t been so arrogant as to assume he could do things all on his own either. He only hoped that this plan would work better than his others. If not that, he begged the universe to at least minimize the casualties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is this piece already halfway over? We still need to see everyone’s family. What do you think Draco’s plan is? What should the DA do? Will we ever find out who sent Draco the Time Turner? 
> 
> As always, comments are much appreciated. If I don’t respond to your comment, I have certainly acknowledged it and read it, but sometimes it’s hard for me to take criticism on a piece that I write just for fun. I’m not a professional writer and these are my takes on the characters. You absolutely do not have to like them, but please be kind! Love you all.


	14. Vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco tries to pay for what he has done, and realizes one way he may be able to help.

The shrines were certainly unsettling. Draco foolishly looked for Vincent’s, but his eyes kept being drawn to Fred’s, which was the biggest of them all. His smiling face in a picture with his twin brother was illuminated by candlelight, which worried Draco due to the amount of parchment spread around the shrine. Each was folded for the sake of secrecy, and there were dozens. Draco looked around, but it appeared that all of Dumbledore’s Army was still in the shack. He was a little early, and he wanted some context for what he was about to do. So, against his better judgement, he bent down and opened one of the sheets of paper.

_I could say that I missed you, but it wouldn’t even come close to the truth. The feelings I have nowadays often remind me of how I felt the summer after my first year. I was afraid of myself, afraid of Tom Riddle. Nothing has changed in that regard. But now there is no one to make me laugh. You guys got me out of my room that summer. You did everything you could to make me smile, even in the middle of the night when I couldn’t stop wandering around the house because of nightmares. Now it’s up to all of us to make George laugh, and he does, but just to make us feel better. We’re all tiptoeing around each other because we don’t know what to do. You would know what to do. I—_

“Enjoying yourself?” Draco startled at Ginny’s voice and dropped the sheet of paper, then quickly shifted it away from the flames. 

“Not at all,” Draco said. “I just...listen.” He stood up. “There’s something I want to say. To all of you.”

Ginny shrugged and let Draco into the shack. It was a little lighter inside, and everything felt less formal than the last time Draco went there. Draco was not shoved into a chair, but merely sat down in one of the many there were to choose from. Everyone looked forlorn and tired, as they had the last time but without fear and some even without hatred in their eyes. 

“Well?” Ginny asked. “What have you decided?”

Draco took a deep breath. “Look,” he said. “For once in my life, I’m going to be honest. I’ve had a shite few years, and I’ve been a shite person nearly all my life. I spent years tormenting most of you, especially you and your family, Weasley. I was arrogant and I thought that being a pureblood made me better than anyone else. It was wrong. I shouldn’t have realized all this was wrong just because of what I went through, but that’s what got me thinking.

“Shortly after my father was imprisoned two years ago, I was told that I should take the Dark Mark to protect my family. I’m not going to lie, part of me was proud and looked forward to it. But the first meeting was—“ he choked here a little, and coughed to recover. “—terrifying. It hurt nearly more than anything I’ve ever felt. Sort of like the Cruciatus, but concentrated, so I was aware of everything I was feeling.” He didn’t dare look up to see how everyone was reacting. 

“Over the next year, I was tasked with killing Professor Dumbledore and finding a way to let the Death Eaters in the castle. I was careless because I was only thinking about myself and the best way to do this task without getting myself or my family in trouble. It nearly killed Ron Weasley and Katie Bell. I did let Death Eaters into the castle through the Vanishing Cabinet, so you all had to fight and some of you got hurt. When the time came, I didn’t kill Dumbledore, but only because Professor Snape stepped in. I was hesitating, but I think I would have done it, if nothing else happened. I did everything to save my family, but even that was a selfish act. I wasn’t thinking about any of your families.

“I won’t go on, but the next year was the worst of my life. There is no way I would want to bring the Dark Lord back through that Time Turner. I would rather have a universe ruled only by Muggleborns than by him. I promise. I don’t know who sent me the Time Turner or why, but I want nothing more than to have it destroyed.” He finally looked up. Some people were glaring about him, surely feeling like he was making himself a victim, which was not his intent. But others looked relieved that he seemed to have no nefarious plot. The older students held his gaze evenly, not betraying anything with their eyes.

“However, I’m not going to be held hostage because of something that I didn’t do and that I don’t want any part of. I’m going to the Ministry first thing tomorrow morning to report everything that I know about the Time Turner. I’ll leave your names out of it, if you’d like, or you can come with me and help me explain things. Or you can destroy it yourself if you want, but I want to watch it be destroyed so I can know for sure. I’m not going to be blackmailed anymore. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart for everything that I did, and I know that it will never come close to being enough.” Draco took a deep breath. This was the hard part. “I probably don’t even know half the things that I’ve done to you all. Some of you have hinted at the consequences of my actions in the discussion groups, or in private, but if you at all want to tell me something you’re mad at me for, or something you hate about me or my family, or whatever you want, I’m willing to listen. I’m serious,” he added when Ginny and Dean looked at each other.

There was a long silence as everyone absorbed what he said. Then Dean spoke. “So you’re not going to break up with Potter?”

“No,” Draco said. “There’s no need. I’m going to the Ministry tomorrow morning. I promise I’m just trying to get through the year. I have no clue who sent me the Time Turner or why.”

“And what, you expect us to believe you?”

“Not really. That’s why I’m going to the Ministry myself. Maybe they have Veritaserum or something, so that they’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

“Listen, Malfoy, whatever you’re trying to play at, we’re going to figure it out sooner or later,” Zacharias Smith piped up from the back. Most other people nodded.

“I’m not trying to play at anything! I just don’t know what you guys want. I really am willing to do whatever it takes for you to leave me alone.”

“It’s hard to write,” Ginny said softly. Everyone stopped murmuring to look at her. “For a lot of reasons. Mainly because of how many times you and your friends put me under the Cruciatus curse last year. My hands shake. And sometimes the words move across the page and distort themselves because of the stupid diary your father put into my cauldron when we were young. Do you know how it feels to be possessed? Every night I run through everything I did that day to make sure I remember each hour, to make sure there are no gaps.”

She stood to face him. “Not to mention my family. You insulted us every single day, saying that we were poor, but we were richer in love than your family ever will be. Even after you’ve nearly killed my brothers and after one actually died—we try and love stronger. But make no mistake—we are not happier. You have taken the light out of my family’s eyes. I used to enjoy going home and now part of me dreads it because I have to see my mother cry. Not all of it was because of you, Malfoy. But all of it was because of what you believed for years.” Only a single tear spread down her cheek, and she immediately wiped it away angrily.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco said quietly. It was nearly a whisper. 

Dean went next. He told Draco about his life on the run, how scared he was for his family. He told Draco how cold it was out in random forests, how it felt to watch his fellow companions get taken by Snatchers, some of them killed. Dean spoke of the hunger, the cold, the pain of knowing that his friends were at Hogwarts but were perhaps no safer than he was. 

The older kids inspired everyone. Draco sat as students began to share their stories of horror from the past year, some nearly yelling at Draco from anger but others bursting into tears or just staring numbly at the floor. Draco didn’t know what story was the worst or which reaction tugged at his heart more. He knew that the war had traumatized everyone, he really did. But he didn’t know the extent to which his peers—some of them just children—carried it around with them. What had he been doing over the past week? Fawning over Harry Potter, enjoying his life? While these students were down here trying to wrestle control of the universe away from the Ministry? He felt awful. He encouraged the misery that was burning deep inside of him, not knowing if he deserved to be so sad, but knowing for certain that he should never be happy again.

Finally, everyone had said their piece. A few times, Draco wanted to retreat far inside of himself, and his brain went fuzzy at the edges, trying to protect him from what he was feeling. Bringing himself back to the present was no easy task, but it was a necessary price to pay. Draco swallowed thickly as everyone looked at him. “I know words aren’t enough. But I’m really sorry. And if you ever need my help with anything, or if there’s anything at all I can do to make this better, just—just let me know.”

Everyone looked down at the ground, absolutely spent. “We’ll think about it,” Weasley said. “For now, we’ll all go to the Ministry together and turn in the Time Turner in the morning. We’ll hang onto it until then.” She glanced at her fellow students, most trying to comfort themselves and each other through small gestures of touch—hands wringing and patting shoulders. “You all should get some rest. I want to talk to him for another minute.” 

Draco desperately wished that he could follow the others out of the shack. He knew for certain that a panic attack was coming on. He thought coming here would be the most anxiety-inducing part, but hearing everyone’s stories rattled him to his core, the shakes in his mind bringing up memories that he constantly fought to keep down. Dean Thomas hung back, but Weasley nodded him forward. Finally, it was just himself and Ginny alone in the shack. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you, Malfoy,” she started. “But I guess we all have to move on somehow.”

“That’s really all I want,” Draco added after a pause.

“So you’re going to stay with Harry?”

“Yes,” Draco said firmly. Sure, he didn’t deserve a single moment with the Boy Who Lived, who was perhaps the greatest person in the universe for reasons ignored by many. But as long as Harry wanted to be with him, Draco could never hurt him.

“I assume your parents don’t know?” Draco blanched and looked away. “Well, you need to tell them. If you’re serious about this, they need to know, whatever the consequences are. Unless you want to ignore them for the rest of your life. You can’t live two lives when you’re with him, it wouldn’t be fair.” She had a point. “And, you need to come to my family’s house over the holidays and answer to them. They’re going to be wondering why you’re with Harry. He’s a member of our family, and we stick up for each other. And don’t think I’m going to help you with your explanations.”

Draco nodded quickly. “That’s—that’s all fair. I understand.”

“Good,” she said. “See you tomorrow morning.” 

Draco moved to leave and then looked back at her for a moment. She seemed to have no intention of moving for quite a while as she pulled her knees up to her chest on the uncomfortable, wooden chair. “You terrify me,” he said suddenly, shaking as he pulled himself to his feet. _Keep it together, for just a few more moments. At least try and make her feel better._ “You sort of always have.” She looked up sharply, confused. “I just thought maybe that would make you laugh. I was scared of you even when we were kids.”

She tilted her head, and Draco caught the smallest hint of a smile. It failed to warm him. “You _should_ be terrified of me,” she said, whether to joke with him, convince him, or convince herself, Draco couldn’t say.

Draco had to control himself not to run outside. He made sure he went a few paces closer into the Forbidden Forest, not wanting to run into any of the others heading back to the school. Taking large gulps of the cold air wasn’t helping. Every breath he took seemed not to enter his lungs but his stomach, and he put a hand on it to try and steady himself. He stumbled against the nearest tree and sunk down into the grass, which was wet with forming dew. His teeth clenched together and he tried his best to keep his tongue from getting hurt—but even the mere thought of his tongue caused him to vomit on the ground.

Tears were falling freely down Draco’s face, and with each one he felt the urge to punch himself. _You do not deserve to cry. What, you’re upset because you heard their stories? Stories of situations you helped create? You don’t get to be upset. They get to be upset. You get to take it. You don’t deserve to live and you don’t deserve to die. You deserve to be a placeholder in history, a vessel for their stories, carrying them with you wherever you go. Never forget them._

Usually at this point in a panic attack Draco became oblivious to the world around him, but this time it raged on and took his full consciousness with it. He was aware of the hail that started to fall on him, the pinches on his skin. Maybe the hail would break him into pieces, leaving his limbs to the animals. He wanted that so badly. He wanted to breathe or he wanted to die, but he hated being stuck in between. His vision danced around him as he begged for someone to come and take him out of his misery, their method of doing so being entirely their choice. 

“Please, please help, someone please, I can’t, someone please,” he was sobbing quietly to himself. At least, he thought he was speaking aloud in between gulps of air, but everything felt so loud that he couldn’t tell his internal voice from his external one. An amount of time passed this way, Draco was sure it had to have been hours or days, but it seemed just as dark as it had when the attack started. Maybe the sun had gone out. Maybe he was dead. He wasn’t shaking anymore, wasn’t even cold.

“Draco, Merlin, it’s alright.” Someone was speaking, it sounded like Harry but that wasn’t possible. All he said to Harry was that he was going for a walk, Harry had no way of knowing where he would have been. Had he been followed out of the shack?

“Harry—I don’t think they want you to know, you can’t—“

“Shh, we need to get inside, okay? We need to get to somewhere warm. I know where we can go and it isn’t far, but your fingertips are turning blue, love. Can you stand?”

Draco thought he had been standing this whole time. Why else would his legs hurt so much? Being pulled to his feet, though, was a new level of pain. He cried out and grabbed for something—his vision faded and he could barely see. 

“Just a little bit farther. Keep focusing on breathing.” 

Draco was tired now, and he desperately wanted to sleep. He tried to convey this to Harry, but his tongue felt like it was made of lead—his tongue! Is that why he couldn’t speak? Did he not have it anymore? “Harry, I left—“

Draco heard two sharp raps, like someone was knocking on the door, and they both reverberated inside his pounding skull. Why was someone trying to wake him up? 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late,” he heard Harry speak, but not to him. “But he’s having a massive panic attack and I think he’s got hypothermia.”

“Yer all right. Come in, it’s nasty out ‘ere.”

Draco was shoved inside somewhere that was much too bright, and he heard the sound of a dog barking. Warmth started to envelope him but it was extremely unpleasant at first, and burned his hands and feet. He made a strangled sound as Harry put him on a couch and began to take off his shoes. Draco had previously stopped shivering but the warmth brought the cold back. How was that possible? 

Finally his mind gave him a rest. He was aware of Harry stripping him down to his underwear and then dressing him in blankets instead, and he was aware that they were in Hagrid’s cabin. He even had the decency to be a little embarrassed that they were in the home of the professor he tried so desperately to get fired. But everything else felt twinkly, and he calmed down as his emotions melted into mush. 

He fully returned to himself steadily, as he often did after a massive panic attack. He knew logically everything that happened that evening, but he didn’t feel any sort of emotions toward it all. Harry was next to him on the couch, his arm boldly around Draco, and Hagrid sat in a chair across from them, telling senseless stories. Draco knew that he was fully back, but Harry didn’t yet. Draco didn’t want this moment to end, didn’t want to return to just one of the infinite amount of times he would have to face what he had done. And so he let his body fall on Harry’s shoulders, watching from above as both boys’ mouths curved into pained and broken smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this second part of the series has been relatively angst-free. So here’s some angst! Not too much longer left in this book. Now we’ll get to holiday stuff, which will include fluff and a whole lot of angst.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! Love you guys.


	15. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have a much needed conversation the day after his panic attack. Also, the burden of the Time Turner is lifted.

There were a few false starts to Draco waking up that night. He fell asleep to Hagrid’s low, gruff yet somehow soothing voice, with Harry responding in between. Then there was a period where everything was quiet, but Draco still felt Harry’s presence next to him. Then, sometime later, he felt his body shift to lying horizontally on the couch, and felt the sudden cold on the side previously touching Harry but now replaced by a blanket—it wasn’t enough. His sleepy mind tried to suppress the shivers—of course Harry wouldn’t want to sit up the whole night, and he shouldn’t feel like he had to. Draco opened his eyes blearily to sneak a peek, just to make sure Harry was still there. He wasn’t. It was still dark outside, but Draco needed to find him. Upon sitting up, however, and promptly vomiting into a well-placed bucket as the world spun around him, he decided that he would look in the morning.

Draco assumed that, in between these realizations, he had been sleeping, but it didn’t feel like it when he woke up. Every bone in his body protested and his head felt extraordinarily heavy. He opened his eyes, finally, to sunshine, and a sleepy Harry sitting in a giant armchair near him. Maybe he hadn’t left during the night at all.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Harry leaned forward, tired eyes dry.

“Like shite,” Draco admitted, finally getting himself up and swallowing to keep down a wave of nausea. “I—wait, what time is it?”

“Nearly ten.”

“Fuck.” Draco tried to stand, drawing the attention of Hagrid’s giant dog. He stumbled and immediately sat back down, waiting to try again.

“You should sit for a bit, take it easy, have something to eat. We need to go to the Hospital Wing once you can, I think something is still wrong with your fingertips and toes.” Draco glanced at his hands—his fingertips were a ghoulish shade of black, and he realized his hands were moving jerkily. He tentatively tried to touch his nose with his pointer finger, and nearly poked himself in the eye.

“Shite. That can wait, though, I was supposed to—“ he glanced quickly at Harry. What was he going to tell him? Sure, he had class, but he surely would never be distressed about missing it. “I had to—“

“It’s alright,” Harry told him gently. “Sit down. I talked with Professor McGonagall this morning. And with Ginny, last night.”

Draco was fearful and mortified. Did Ginny think that he had told Harry everything? That he had made Harry talk to her on his behalf? “How did you know? How did you know where I was, and that Weasley was involved?”

Harry sat next to him after Draco slowly sank into the giant couch. He pulled out something from his pocket. It was a large piece of paper that looked like it could fold dozens of times. Harry also took out his wand, and tapped the paper three times. “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The paper transformed, ink lining the page like someone was drawing. Draco recognized the familiar shape of the Hogwarts grounds. Little footsteps moved across the parchment with names attached. It looked like a record of everyone that was in the school.

“My father helped make this,” Harry said. “Fred and George gave it to me in my third year. It’s pretty useful. There are some hidden passages marked on here, and you can tell where everyone is.”

“Wh—“ Draco was astounded. This was a phenomenal piece of magic, but was also sort of terrifying. “Why did your father need to know where everyone was at all times?” He asked this not unkindly.

“He and his friends would pull all sorts of pranks. I think this helped them time everything. I also watched you a lot through it sixth year, when I thought you were up to something. The only place where it doesn’t display anyone is in the Room of Requirement. See?” Harry pointed to a corner of the map where his and Draco’s names were nestled together, much like they were on the couch. “Last night when you didn’t come back after a while, I checked the map. I saw you in the Forbidden Forest, not moving, and I came running.”

“What time was that?”

“Just after one.” Draco did some mental math. He was probably out in the hail and cold for about three or four hours. No wonder his fingertips were still numb. “Once I got you inside, I saw Ginny nearby. On the map. I wasn’t sure if she had something to do with your attack, but I definitely wanted to see if she was okay. She told me everything. She was pretty worked up, so I stayed with her for a while.” Harry looked at Draco sadly. “I had no idea about the new Dumbledore’s Army, or that shack. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his nails scratching his scalp since he couldn’t flatten out his fingers. “I didn’t want to bother you about it. And I just wanted to prove to myself that I could solve a situation without messing up, for once.” Draco ignored Harry’s protests and continued. “I did go to McGonagall about it. She was a little helpful, told me that I should be empathetic. And I did, and I guess it somewhat worked out.” Draco shook his head, trying to clear his fuzzy brain. “So did McGonagall turn in the Time Turner?”

“Yes. She’s going directly to Kingsley, to try and work everything out. Draco, I—I’m touched that you didn’t break up with me. I would have understood, if you had. Well, not at the time, but if I had known—“

“That was never going to be an option.”

“I just know how much you care about your family. So it means a lot to me that you would risk them for me. Even though you absolutely don’t have to.”

“It wasn’t just about my family,” Draco said quietly, taking Harry’s hand in his as best as he could. “I’ve been blackmailed enough. This time, for something I didn’t even do. I don’t know who sent me the Time Turner or why.” This wasn’t a lie—Draco really wasn’t sure who sent him the Time Turner. But he had a sinking suspicion that it was Theo Nott, and that his old classmate was in trouble. 

Harry was silent for a few moments, and Draco reveled in Harry’s slow circles on his palms. “So...your panic attack...?” 

Draco tensed beneath Harry’s fingertips. He swallowed thickly before answering. “They told me all their stories. Everything that happened to them because of what I did. It was just overwhelming to hear it all, I guess.” That was an understatement, but Draco didn’t feel that he had the strength to consider it any further right now. 

“You know that you didn’t cause all of that, right?”

“I let the Death Eaters into the castle sixth year. That certainly sped things along.”

“Do you really think they wouldn’t have found a way to do that anyway? I don’t want to drag your confidence, but I’m sure Voldemort had backup plans.” Harry shook his head. “No, the only things you need to apologize for are things that you’ve said. The purist things. That, you should apologize for and do whatever you can to make up for it. But things that happened to them when the Carrows were here, or things that happened to their family during the final battle—it’s no more your fault than it is mine.”

Draco looked at Harry, shocked. “That’s preposter—“

“No it’s not!” Harry was adamant. “The prophecy mentioned me. If I didn’t exist, or if people hadn’t worked so hard to keep me alive, so many would still be here. I’ve worked long and hard these past few months to realize that even though I may have set some events in motion, even though I was a catalyst, they aren’t my fault.”

Draco was silent. He didn’t want to invalidate what Harry was saying, but he also didn’t think the two were equivalent. “I could have been better,” he finally decided to say.

“We all could have. But you’re _being_ better. And that’s what counts. Even Ginny has noticed. Yeah, she may never forgive you, but she doesn’t hate you, Draco. If more people knew you and took the time to listen to you, they would realize that you truly are a better person. And I’m proud of you for that.” Harry squeezed Draco’s fingertips and he couldn’t help but give a wince at the dull ache that increased suddenly. “Now, we should get you to the Hospital Wing.”

A burst of cold air blew in as the door opened, making Draco shiver both with chill and with the memory of the past night. “Yer leaving?” Hagrid said as he came in carrying a watering can. 

“Yeah, I think we’re about ready to head out. Thank you again, Hagrid. You really helped us out last night.”

Draco found it hard to meet Hagrid’s eyes. He was grateful and embarrassed. He also couldn’t forget the fact that he tried his very best to get Hagrid fired, both in his third and fifth year. It was almost easier to confront mistakes and wrongdoings from the past few years than from before he became a Death Eater. Even though the former memories were much more traumatic, he was not one hundred percent in control of his situation. In his younger years, he was just a jerk.

He glanced down at his hand touching Harry’s. Though he could barely feel it physically, it warmed him inside. He was different now. “Hagrid,” Draco said suddenly. “Thank you for last night. I really appreciate it.”

Hagrid blinked at Draco, seeming a little taken aback. “Yer welcome. ‘S no problem, good ter have the company.”

Harry smiled at Draco as he helped support his weight out of Hagrid’s hut. The castle seemed incredibly far away given that Draco’s toes tingled with each step. It felt like little needles were poking him every time his feet touched the ground. Harry had also dressed Draco in his own jacket, protecting him from the near-December chill. The rapid approach of the winter solstice reminded Draco of what he and Ginny did agree on.

“Harry, I—I think I have to tell my parents about us. Wait, no. I know I have to tell my parents about us.”

“You don’t have to. Just because Ginny told you—“

“No, it’s not even that. She’s right. I don’t want to live dishonestly.”

Harry nodded as the stumbled back toward the castle. Everyone else was at classes, so it was blissfully empty of wary stares. “So what do you want to do?”

Draco sighed. “I’ll tell them when I get home, I suppose. Who knows what’s going to happen with my father now that the Time Turner was found. I doubt he’ll get sent back to Azkaban unless they can prove that somehow he was the one who sent it to me at Hogwarts, which makes no sense.” Draco was already feeling dizzy, and trying to figure out this puzzle only made things worse. Who sent him the Time Turner, and why?

It was as if Harry could read his mind. “Try not to worry about that right now. If by tomorrow you still have all ten fingers and ten toes and can feel them, I’ll be happy.”

It turned out that Draco had done significant damage to his fingers from the hypothermia, the tips of which may have permanent loss of feeling. However, all of them stayed intact, and he was even able to return to classes that day after a promise to talk to Christine about what had happened. He was in the middle of brewing a difficult potion when a first year walked into the classroom and handed Professor Slughorn a note.

“Mr. Malfoy, this is for you.” Draco took the note delicately, as if it were a Howler, but it was simply a summons from Professor McGonagall. He tried not to shake as he spoke the password and climbed the gargoyle steps. What he found in the Headmistress’s office, however, was Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt deep in conversation. Draco wasn’t sure he and the new Minister had ever had a conversation. When Kingsley was an Auror, his father always complained about him, saying that he was too new age and inexperienced for the kind of work required. Draco now knew, though, that Lucius was just upset regarding where Kingsley’s loyalties lay.

“Hello, Draco,” Professor McGonagall said not unkindly. “The Minister would like to have a word with you regarding the return of the Time Turner. I will leave you two in peace.” She then walked upstairs to the more private office and left the alone.

Kingsley did not waste any time with pleasantries, which Draco respected. He simply asked Draco to repeat everything he knew about the lost and newly returned Time Turner. Draco, remembering his conversation with Harry earlier about honesty, decided to come clean and tell Kingsley about the letter he had received and burned from Theo.

Kingsley nodded thoughtfully when Draco was finished. “I appreciate your honesty. The Aurors and myself have decided that your parents will not return to Azkaban, so long as they continue to cooperate with the Ministry. However, the wards will remain on your home for at least five years, and your parents will be on house arrest for an additional year.” Draco nodded—that seemed fair, and he didn’t want to push his luck. “In the meantime, if you hear from young Theo Nott again, you will be required to turn the letter in to the Ministry.”

This made Draco’s heart pound. “Minister, I—I think he’s in trouble. Can you help him?”

Kingsley stood, ready to leave. “It depends on if he’s willing to help himself. Should he turn himself in, we may be in a position to offer amnesty in exchange for information on his father. It will be different if we capture him while still performing criminal activity.”

“It’s—it’s not always that simple.” Draco swallowed thickly. “When I was dragged into...everything, I didn’t want to be involved. But I never would have turned myself in. Or my family.”

“Yes, and you nearly killed two students at this school while refusing help.” Kingsley did not say this unkindly or with a sneer, but merely as a matter of fact. “Theo should have learned from your mistakes, yes? Besides, he is an adult. He can make his own choices.”

Draco knew that everything Kingsley was saying made sense. And who knows, maybe Theo wanted to bring the Dark Lord back and wasn’t being influenced by his father as much as Draco suspected. So Draco didn’t push it, but felt extremely uncomfortable upon leaving the Headmistress’s office. Did Theo even deserve anyone’s help? He could have asked for it after the war instead of fleeing. But Draco’s other friends like Pansy also left just because of how they thought they would be treated by the victors. Draco remembered vividly how trapped he felt, how much he wished the Ministry would turn a blind eye to his family just for a moment so they could flee with the Parkinsons, the Notts, and others. 

Where did the pureblood families belong? Was it okay to ask for help, was it okay to move on? Or should Draco leave people like Theo behind? Any choice felt extremely inauthentic. If Draco helped Theo, it may show people that he hadn’t learned anything from the war, that he was still a Death Eater sympathizer. If Draco didn’t help Theo, he would be an even worse friend than he already had been. 

It was strange—even without his family’s social capital or wealth, Draco had never felt like he lived a more cushy lifestyle. Here he was at school, dating the most famous wizard in the world, in relatively good health, and with at least one parent who still loved him. That was so much more than some others had, and here he was worrying about things he couldn’t even control. 

He stopped by a window—it was snowing, the first really fluffy snow of the season. It brought a smile to his face, and he tried to let thoughts about Theo blow away with the cold wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still alive!!! So sorry guys, things with the COVID escalated fast. Now I’m safely at home from college and hope to finish this fic in the next few weeks. Not sure what’ll happen after that! Comments are always appreciated. I hope everyone is safe.


	16. Snowball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As winter break nears, Draco is worried about two things. He also would do anything to give Harry his childhood back.

The weeks right before winter break were some of the best that Draco had at Hogwarts. He was finally feeling a little at peace with himself after his last panic attack. The Time Turner had weighed on him more than he thought as well. Knowing that it was safely out of any Malfoy hands made it easier to sleep at night, though Draco’s dreams still included nightmares of Theo Nott. Draco felt really stupid at burning his letter so many weeks ago—he should have read it. But, as was the theme of his life, he could not change the past.

Other than that, he kept a low profile. Well, as much as he could, give that he was dating the Boy Who Lived. Harry’s conversation with Ginny and the rest of the DA seemed to have changed some people’s attitude toward Draco. Mostly, he was ignored, which suited him perfectly fine. It was odd to bask in the comfort of no one caring about him when he spent so long trying to be the center of attention. 

His main concerns were two. His first was the upcoming holidays. He was going to home to both of his parents since his father was no longer required to go back to Azkaban. Draco had some apprehension about seeing his father again. The visit at St. Mungo’s had not gone well. Lucius had been openly hostile, and he claimed that he knew a secret about Draco. Did Lucius know about Draco’s relationship with Harry? It wouldn’t surprise Draco, but what did surprise him was the fact that Lucius had not taken any action against it. Certainly that would change over the break. Harry also seemed to want Draco to visit the Burrow with him, which is where the Weasley family dwelled. Draco knew that they were a part of Harry’s family, but he wasn’t sure he could stomach a dinner with people he had insulted every chance he got only a year or two prior.

His second concern was his final presentation in Defense Against the Dark Arts before the break. He still had failed to produce a full Patronus. The closest he had come, despite Harry’s amazing teachings, was the faint outline of some sort of creature. It was merely a whisp, and Draco couldn’t even ascertain what sort of an animal it was going to be. Draco did not want his poor performance to reflect badly on Harry, but his boyfriend did not seem concerned.

“I bet it’s going to be a dragon. Doesn’t your mother call you that?” Harry said as they were walking back from a practice session.

“She does. I wouldn’t care at this point if my Patronus were a blast-ended skrewt, so long as I made one.” 

Harry ignored his fears. “What if I called you ‘dragon’?” he asked, grinning.

Draco scrunched up his nose. “No. Too weird of a crossover, between you and my mother.” Draco was picturing the look on his mother’s face if she heard Harry call him by his childhood nickname. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but then again, neither was the look on his mother’s face if she heard Harry call him anything affectionate at all.

“Hey—“ Harry stopped him in his tracks. Draco hadn’t noticed he had been furiously rubbing at his left arm, which was as much of a nervous tic as Harry rubbing his forehead was. “It’s going to be okay. Even if you don’t manage to cast a full Patronus during the presentation, it’ll still prove that you learned something.”

“But I can’t follow your full instructions even though they’re fantastic. I told you, we should have done a different spell. Or you should have insisted on having a less—less _defective_ partner.” He said this latter part with malice toward himself.

“You are not defective. You’re in the best state you’ve ever been in your life. Well, maybe besides your pinky finger.” Draco’s smallest finger, now permanently curled, had not really recovered from his hypothermia, and it likely never would. “Do I look worried?”

“Of course you don’t. But you’re the Boy Who Lived. You can have any job that you’d like once we get out of this place.”

“There are plenty of jobs that don’t require being able to cast a Patronus, Draco.”

Draco knew it was more than just the Patronus that was upsetting him. He was nearly the halfway point of his last year of schooling. What in the world would be next? Malfoys didn’t usually have “jobs” per say, but they made sure to stay active in the Wizarding community, and conducted business in dealing with dark artifacts and investment properties. But who in the wizarding community would want to interact with Draco? 

Draco shook his head to clear it. If he was going to have a terrible rest of his life, he may as well enjoy the next six months. Besides, he knew that Harry would have his own challenges upon graduating from Hogwarts. Draco always tried to suppress thoughts of whether or not their relationship would continue beyond their schooling. The idea that Harry may not be in his daily life in less than a year was nearly too much to bear. 

It was particularly hard to fathom on a day like this. The grounds of Hogwarts glistened with freshly fallen snow. It was cold enough for the snow to stay fluffy, but not too cold to be outside. Draco could hear the happy screams of students who were participating in snowball fights, particularly the first years who could finally conduct their battles using magic. This was one of the few times that one could visibly see inter-House unity taking place. 

Harry noticed Draco staring wistfully at the kids. “Did you have snowball fights as a kid?”

“Oh yeah. Pansy, Vince, Greg, Blaise, Theo, all the other kids in my lessons, we’d all get together on a snowy day and have a snowball fight. We had to do it out of sight of our parents though, they found it quite unbecoming. How about you?”

“Not until I spent Christmases at Hogwarts or at the Weasley’s. At the Dursley’s, Dudley enjoyed pelting me with snowballs, but it was hardly a fight. He’d bring them in the house and fling them through the cupboard. I got him good a few times, but Uncle Vernon would be furious.”

Now Harry was the one staring wistfully outside. Draco’s heart clenched every time Harry mentioned the horrible Dursley’s. It was almost too painful to hear about, but Draco knew his pain must be nothing in comparison to how Harry felt talking about it. Draco had learned to be quiet when Harry brought up memories from hips childhood. At first, Draco blamed anyone he could—Dumbledore, the Weasleys, anyone that had knowledge of how Harry was being treated and chose to do nothing about it. Then Draco realized that his anger wasn’t helping Harry. Harry needed a safe person who would listen without judgement. But Draco would give anything if Harry could have some of his childhood back.

In fact, Draco could not get the thought out of his mind. When Harry went to bed that night, Draco feigned wanting to study more. Instead, he approached Granger, who was dutifully working on an assignment, her hair wrapped in a messy bun with her wand sticking straight through it.

“Granger.” He greeted her calmly but with a somewhat cool tone. While the two had reached nearly friendly terms, Draco didn’t think they ever would get there. However, they had something in common—a deep affection for Harry. Hermione looked up at him expectantly. “I have an idea.”

A few days after that conversation and just a few before winter break, Draco was begging Harry to go outside. “Come on, look at the snow! It’s so pretty.”

Harry smiled at him with patience. “You’re so cute. But look at all this work we have to do! Twenty four inches for Potions, nearly double that for Transfiguration, and only a few days left. We really should get to work.”

Draco swept his hand across the empty common room. “I know you’re practically blind, but do you see a soul that is cooped up here instead of enjoying the season? I don’t. We’re going, and that’s final.”

Harry rolled his eyes but did not look unhappy as Draco dragged him out of the eighth year dorms, bundled him up, and nearly pushed him into the fresh air. “What in the world—“

One of the Hogwarts quads was so quiet that it was obviously hiding something. Large blocks of snow were spread out across the field, and Draco led Harry behind on one the south side. Draco knelt down into the snow, trying not to wince as the cold seeped through his bones, reminding his body of his near hypothermic experience just a few weeks ago. His gloved hands started to work rapidly, morphing the snow into balls.

“What in the world is going on—“

“Shush.” Draco clasped his icy hand over Harry’s mouth. “You’re going to give away our position. We’ve only got five minutes, I reckon, before the ambush.”

Harry was so clueless that he just stared at Draco blankly. “Have you gone mad? Did you make all these blocks?”

“It’s a miracle you survive every day life, love, nevertheless the Killing Curse. No, we’re having a snowball fight. Everyone in our year is going to start attacking very soon, so I suggest you make yourself useful. Only charms allowed, mind you, no jinxes or hexes.”

Draco loved seeing Harry’s face light up like a Christmas tree. Though Harry was astoundingly bad at making snowballs and Draco had to smooth every one that his boyfriend contributed to the pile, Harry seemed to be having the time of his life. Draco realized that he rarely saw the Boy Who Lived be excited about anything. Happy or content, certainly. But rarely looking forward to something. Draco wanted to make him feel like this every second of the day. “Whose idea was this?” Harry asked.

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment. “Well, I brought it up to Granger. Then we worked together on it.” When Harry looked at him pressingly, he continued. “I hated the thought of you never having an authentic snowball fight. And I know you don’t want me to worry about it, but—Merlin, Harry, you never even had a childhood. I wanted to give you a piece of that back.”

To Draco’s embarrassment, Harry’s eyes were shining, and not from the cold. Draco didn’t want to see his boyfriend cry, even though it wouldn’t be for the first time. Crying from happiness at this small gesture was almost too much to bear. Draco continued making snowballs even faster than before. “It’s not a big deal, I—“

“Dray,” Harry said, sending shock waves through Draco as he touched his arm. “I love you.”

“You—pardon?”

“I love you.” Harry set his arm down. “Thank you for doing this. It’s brilliant.”

“I—“ For the second time in his life, Draco legitimately struggled to speak. “I love you too.”

They both sat staring at each other, communicating more with their eyes than words could ever say. They were only interrupted by a Ravenclaw battle cry as twirling, charmed snowballs hit Draco right in the face. Harry laughed, and led Draco into battle.

Draco was still shivering later that night by the fire, but he was sure he had never been happier. “I don’t think we should have been out there that long,” Harry said, bringing Draco his third mug of hot chocolate. “I think your body is still recovering.”

“Certainly worth it,” Draco said through chattering teeth. “Although I do wish we would have won.” The combined strength of the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins, with Draco having put himself on the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff team, had overpowered even the Boy Who Lived, who had to fix his glasses at least ten times throughout the course of the nearly two hour match. 

“I feel like I won,” Harry said with a smirk.

Draco smiled and looked down bashfully. “Me too. I’ll admit, I always thought I’d be the first to say it. Hell, I would have said it already by now if I knew you were ready.”

Harry pursed his lips and looked away, trying not to laugh.

“What?” Draco asked, confused. “ _What_?” He said more worriedly, and Harry burst out laughing. Draco nudged him sideways and threatened him until he finally spoke.

“You already said it,” Harry said gleefully.

“No I did not. You must be touched in the head.” Draco’s face was growing redder and redder.

“When you were poisoned and got really poorly. You mumbled it to me in a rant on the stairs back to the Hospital Wing.”

Harry’s words brought a very vague recollection to Draco’s mind. Draco had always assumed that his loving but embarrassing rant was a fever induced dream, since Harry hadn’t mentioned anything. “Oh Merlin,” he said, setting down his mug.

Harry roared with laugher. “No, don’t be upset! It was so cute. I loved it.”

“But that was—that was _months_ ago, we were barely—oh Merlin,” Draco said again, at a loss for words. Malfoys never lost their composure in such situations. What else had Draco confessed to people without his knowing?

“It was amazing, trust me. I’ll always have that memory. And now you do, too.” Harry laced his hands through Draco’s fingers, and the latter finally cracked a smile. 

Their conversation was interrupted by a crash on the window. An owl hooted disdainfully and righted itself on the windowsill. Dean Thomas opened it and took the parchment from the owl, who ruffled its feathers to ward off any snow. “It’s for you, Malfoy.”

Draco caught the letter and looked at it with apprehension. It was clearly his father’s handwriting. Harry misinterpreted Draco’s hesitation. “Do you want to put gloves on before we open it? Or we could have the Ministry examine it first?”

“No, I know who it is.” Draco opened the letter.

_Son,_

_You’ll be happy to know that the present crisis with our family has been resolved. I’m looking forward to seeing you in a few days for winter break. We have a lot of work to do rebuilding the family name. We must eliminate anything in our lives that could negatively impact our reputation going forward. This is our last chance._

_See you soon,_   
_Lucius Malfoy_

Harry read over Draco’s shoulder, then looked at him with eyes full of loving concern. “Do you think he knows about us?”

“I’m sure of it,” Draco said. “But I’m also sure of _this_.” He took Harry’s hand and pressed it to his mouth for a kiss. Then he tossed the letter in the fireplace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we deserved a very fluffy chapter! So sorry for not having updated. It has been really crazy, as I’m sure you can imagine. We only have a few more chapters in this installment before we’re done! What would you all like to see next? More of Harry and Draco, or something else? Maybe a time jump? Let me know. As always, all comments are appreciated. I love you all and I hope you’re staying safe.


	17. Patronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for Draco and Harry to present their Defense Against the Dark Arts project. Also, Draco revisits a memory.

“Ugh,” Draco said as he leaned back against the bathroom stall, curling into Harry’s side. He wiped his mouth and gave a sigh of relief as some of the tension left his body. 

“Does it feel any better?” Harry had been a perfect boyfriend, staying with Draco all throughout their midday break as he battled anxiety and nausea. 

“Yeah. I just feel ridiculous.” He had been ill for the past few days. Harry had wanted him to go to the Hospital Wing, but Draco knew all too well what was going on. This was reminiscent of the entire summer when he fought to keep simple foods down and battled clammy hands and a nervous stomach. “I thought all this was over with. I thought I was done with this.” Draco was frustrated with himself that he regressed this far.

“Draco, you have anxiety problems. They don’t just go away that easily, unfortunately. Just because you’ve had a good stretch doesn’t mean you won’t still have bad periods time and again. And when you have a bad time, it doesn’t mean you haven’t made any progress.”

“I just really have no reason to be this anxious. This is probably the happiest I’ve ever been! I have good friends, I’m doing well in school, I have you—I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not,” Harry reassured him. “Good relationships don’t solve mental illness. Also I know you’re really stressed about our presentation tomorrow, and about seeing your parents next week. It’s understandable you’re having a rough go. But I’m here with you all the way, and I know you’ll do great in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Draco nodded and sighed before accepting Harry’s hand to stand up. He washed his mouth out and splashed some water on his face. When he looked in the mirror, he realized how much he had changed. His face was a little pale from the vomiting, but it was full in a way that perfectly accentuated his pointy features. His hair shined more than it had in the past year, and his hands were steady. Things had really improved, and he wasn’t going to let any stress get in the way of what he had accomplished.

That night Draco told Harry he was going to lie down rather than go to dinner. In reality, he spent the time in his room desperately trying to produce a corpeal Patronus. He was certainly better than when he had started, but his progress had plateaued. He always stood for a moment before casting the spell, practicing breathing techniques that his therapist, Christine, had taught him, and picturing his chosen happy memory fully in his mind. Then he pointed his wand, knowing he did the hand motion perfectly, and shouted “ _EXPECTO PATRONUM_ ” with confidence. But his brain couldn’t trick his magical core into thinking he was ready. Nothing came out but a mere wisp—possibly enough to distract a Dementor long enough to run away, but certainly not sufficient for a Hogwarts graduate. He clenched at his hair, near tears from frustration. Crying out, Draco started throwing his textbooks on the floor, stomping on them for good measure.

“Woah, mate, what did those books ever do to you?” Blaise walked in the room with Greg and Daphne following close behind.

Draco scratched the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. “What are you guys doing here? You’ll miss dinner.”

“We’ve missed you,” Daphne corrected, sitting on Draco’s bed which had gone untouched for a long time. “I feel like we’ve barely seen you.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, sitting on Harry’s much more messy bed. “I’m really sorry. I’ve never had real friendships or a relationship, and now that I have both, it’s hard to balance. It’s probably seemed like I’ve been ignoring you lot when that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“No mate,” Greg said, leaning against the bedpost and picking up Draco’s textbooks. “We understand, we’re all super busy. Plus, it’s amazing seeing you so happy.”

“Except lately,” Blaise chimed in. “What’s going on?”

Draco sighed and filled them in on his father’s letter. “I just don’t know what to do. I mean, we’re all going home to messed-up parents, but on top of it I’m dating the Boy Who Lived.”

“I don’t get it,” Daphne said. “If your father wants to improve the Malfoy reputation, wouldn’t dating Potter be the best way to do that? I know that’s not why you’re dating him, but it’s sort of an instant boost, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure if it is. I’m sure when people find out, they’ll think I coerced Harry somehow. A love potion, the Imperious Curse, something like that. Even if it did help our reputation, my father is too prideful to accept that help from someone that he hated for years and years. In his opinion, his downfall started at the end of our fifth year, when Harry went to the Ministry. He’ll never forgive Harry for that, even though he’s saved all our arses since.”

“Well, you figured out everything with the Time Turner. I’m sure that has to count for something. He’ll be spending Christmas at home thanks to you,” Blaise contributed.

Draco nodded, and the four sat in silence for a second. He knew now would be a good time to bring up something that had been bothering him for quite a while. “Do you—do you guys ever think about Theo? Like, wonder what’s going on, or if he’s alright?”

“All the time,” Greg said, sounding glad that Draco mentioned it. “He wasn’t particularly kind to Vince and I, but he never really seemed to want to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

“I’d love to send him a letter, see if an owl can find him.” Draco added.

“No way, mate,” Blaise cautioned. “You can’t risk that.”

“But what if it’s partially my fault he’s in this boat? What if it’s because of my parents, or because I escaped getting kidnapped months ago, or just because I didn’t flee with the rest of the Death Eaters at the end of the war?”

“We’re all adults now. Theo needs to make his own decisions,” Blaise added, doubling down on his opinion. “I doubt it’s your fault. Even if it were a tiny bit your fault, trying to fix that mess would undo a lot of the work you’ve done here.”

“Isn’t that the point of this whole year, though? To right our wrongs?”

“Sometimes that’s not possible,” Blaise said. “And the point of this year is for us to build up our lives enough again so that we can go our separate ways in peace. It’s not selfish to want a good life, Draco.”

Soon after that conversation, Draco’s friends returned to their studies. Draco pulled on one of Harry’s Muggle sweatshirts and climbed into Harry’s bed. Blaise’s words echoed in his head. His life right now was probably the best it had ever been. Draco pretended to sleep when Harry came in, not having the words to express how he felt at that moment. As Harry’s arm settled over Draco’s chest, Draco wondered if he really deserved the treasure sitting next to him.

_He knew. Of course he did. He may be an average student, but Harry Potter was one of the most cunning people Draco had ever met. And a truly good person, in the purest sense of the word. Harry Potter was not close to Katie Bell, but wanted to get to the bottom of her hospitalization simply because he knew she did not deserve it. Draco couldn’t argue with that. Draco also couldn’t argue with Snape that his plans were becoming reckless. He wasn’t sure if the Vanishing Cabinet would be fixed in time. Maybe killing Dumbledore before he had time to fix it would prevent Death Eaters from invading the school._

_For now, he had to focus on lessening the choking feeling welling up inside of him. He loosened his tie as he marched to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, tears threatening to escape his eyes. He usually never cried. Not over Quidditch injuries, not over his father’s strict discipline, and despite his dramatics, not even over the pain of getting scratched by a Hippogriff. Now he was paying for those moments of unshed tears._

_Draco didn’t register what Harry said moments later, but merely that he was there. Ignoring his own pale gray reflection in the mirror, he met eyes with Harry. The Boy Who Lived looked incredibly angry, and prepared for justice to be served. Here he was, again, to save the day. Maybe it was for the best. But Draco would not go down without a fight._

_Hexes and jinxes flew back and forth faster than Draco had ever dueled. He felt alive for the first time in weeks, the spells brightening his magical core. It felt good to be skilled at something, and he knew that his dark magic had certainly improved. With all the flooding in the bathroom from the wreckage, Draco knew this battle would catch a professor’s attention sooner rather than later. Harry kept trying to disarm Draco, like he always did, and it was incredibly frustrating. How could Harry still not want to harm Draco, after all he had done? Draco had to incentivize him to finish the job._

_Harry escaped Draco’s Cruciatus curse, not that it would have worked anyway. Finally, Draco felt the adrenaline leave him. Pain registered throughout his body as he collapsed to the ground. He wasn’t sure what spell Harry had used, but it was drawing all the poison out of him. He felt an undeniable sense of relief, like he did after he threw up as a kid battling the flu. He could feel the weight of his task leaving his body along with the blood. And he was so, so tired. He tried to grumble protests as Snape lifted him up toward the hospital wing._

Draco awoke with a start, but he was sure he hadn’t been screaming. After all, that dream wasn’t quite a nightmare. It did not bother him to think about that day—but he wondered if it bothered his boyfriend. Harry was still sleeping peacefully next to him. The last thing Draco wanted to do was wake him when he looked so peaceful, but he had to know.

“Harry? Harry, love, wake up.”

“Wha—what’s wrong?” Harry started to reach for his glasses and his wand.

“Nothing. I just—you don’t feel bad, do you? About what happened in sixth year?” Draco wasn’t sure he was making sense. He felt sleep dragging him back to that moment, like he had a foot in two worlds. But this was important.

Harry sat up, looking more alert. “You mean when I cursed you and nearly killed you? Of course I feel bad.”

Draco sat up too, frustrated. “No. No, love, you shouldn’t. I deserved that. Hell, I was going to try and torture you. I nearly killed your best friend and one of your Quidditch players. I berated both of your best friends for years. What would really kill me is knowing that you felt guilty about it. It helped even the score.”

Harry put a reassuring hand on Draco’s arm. “I don’t like to think of things in terms of evening the score. What you did was wrong, and me using that curse was wrong, too. I had no idea what it did. It was just in my potions book—which turned out to be Snape’s—as a spell ‘for enemies.’ It was reckless of me to try it.” When Draco didn’t look convinced, Harry sighed. “Look, people do both good and bad things. To me, most actions are mutually exclusive. I regret using that curse on you even though you were a prick. I mean, I don’t think I’m evil for doing it, but it was definitely something I would take back. Just like I’m sure you wish you could take back a lot.”

“I just would hate knowing you felt guilty over it. I need you to know that I’m not angry at you in the slightest.”

“I know that, love.” Harry could see Draco was agitated. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Draco laid back down, but said one last thing as they both fell back asleep. “Besides, it was nice seeing you using something other than ‘Expelliarmus’ for a change.”

“Hey, that spell technically killed Voldemort,” Harry said, mockingly offended. Draco fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

The next day brought a triple period of Defense Against the Dark Arts, during which the students would give their presentations. Draco had told Harry he wanted to go first. He wanted to get it over with, and he hoped that by the time the hours passed, his peers would forget what a failure he was. 

Draco was able to walk Harry through simple Occlumency exercises, in which people were blocked from reading Harry’s mind and Harry read Draco’s. For the first, Draco split the class in two. He made sure half the class couldn’t hear, then had the other half of the class tell Harry a simple story that he was supposed to picture. The other half then took turns trying to coax the story out of Harry’s mind, with the Professor trying last. Harry did well, and they only came up with vague details about a lost cat. For the second part, Harry left the room while the students placed chocolate frog cards in a particular order. Then, with Draco increasing his mental shields with each attempt, Harry successfully found the order of the cards in Draco’s mind multiple times. 

As the class applauded the demonstration, Draco’s hands started to shake. Harry began his introduction, describing how the Patronus charm had been incredibly useful to him over the years. Draco tried to gather up all the happy memories in his head—but found he had a new one to focus on. While his previous one still made him smile, there was only one memory that lit him up from the inside out. 

When it was time for Draco to demonstrate the spell, he followed Harry’s instructions one by one. _Feet shoulder-width apart. Hand raised. A smooth but sure motion with the wand. Now think of your happiest memory._ Draco pictured the moment just days ago when Harry told Draco that he loved him. He felt the crisp air of the snowy day and the gleam in Harry’s eyes as he spoke. In his mind, he ran his hand along Harry’s lips, becoming chapped from the cold. He felt calm and peaceful.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” He didn’t even have to yell. The same wisp flew out of his wand, but this time it formed fully. Draco couldn’t even concentrate on what the small creature was, but rather had to put all his energy forth into controlling the spell. It was one of the most powerful things he had ever felt. The creature rumbled around, and a few seconds later it was gone.

Draco met Harry’s eyes. He knew that Harry was trying not to look as surprised as he was, but still seemed absolutely delighted. The class applauded politely but unenthusiastically. To them, this was likely a simple task. But to Draco, it felt like he had climbed a mountain.

After everyone else presented and the period finished, Draco met his friends outside, with Harry next to him. Harry turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That was phenomenal.”

Greg and Daphne nodded. “We knew you could do it, mate!”

“Thanks guys. Honestly I was so focused, I didn’t even see what the Patronus was.” When Draco mentioned this, Blaise started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“It was a lizard, wasn’t it?” Harry asked.

“Not just any lizard,” Blaise said through laughter. “A bearded dragon. It’s native to Australia. Get it? Since your mom calls you dragon? It’s hilarious.”

Draco was slightly taken aback and disappointed, but then joined the rest in a small chuckle. “I really can never catch a break, huh? Not quite a dragon, but close enough,” he said good-naturedly.

Draco felt more alive than ever, and as his friends and his boyfriend enjoyed the last few days before the winter holiday, he knew he had to hold onto this feeling. When it was time to face his family, Draco would need to remember what he was fighting for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends Harry and Draco’s adventures at Hogwarts, for now at least! The next three chapters will take place over the holiday break. Thank you all for continuing to support me, and most importantly, I hope you are all safe. Much love to everyone, and as always, comments are appreciated.


	18. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco returns home and has dinner with his parents. He decides whether to hide his life or keep no secrets.

Draco was no longer used to his friends being so subdued. Daphne, Blaise, and Greg lounged glumly on the seats of the train compartment. No one had much to say—most of them were going home to places and people they would rather not remember. 

“Is your family having the ball this year, Daph?” Draco was always uncomfortable with silence, so he was often the first to break it.

The group looked at each other awkwardly. “Yes...I’m really sorry Draco, but they chose not to invite your family.” Every year the Greengrass family held a New Years Ball. Draco hated the receiving line and the other formalities, but he and his friends always managed to sneak away to one of the balconies, steal wine, and have a good time. His friends would have to do that without him this year.

“No worries.” The last thing Draco wanted to do was make Daphne feel bad for something that wasn’t her fault.

“But, mate, you know that if you need us at all over the holiday, all you have to do is write,” Blaise said.

Draco nodded in appreciation. He glanced out the window and was startled to recognize some of the scenery—they were almost to Platform 9 and 3/4. “I’ll be back.” Draco slipped away and went to the compartment where Harry was with his friends. Harry met his eyes and immediately went out toward Draco. They both stepped toward the gallery where they could watch the trees rush by.

“I’m going to miss you. So much,” Harry started, taking Draco’s hand in his.

Draco gave a sad half-smile. “If all goes well, you’ll see me in a week.” Harry had invited Draco to come to dinner with him at the Burrow, where the Weasleys lived. Draco was still apprehensive, but couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see Harry. “And if things go extremely poorly, you’ll see me tonight.” Harry had also reassured Draco that he could stay at the Burrow if his parents did something so horrible as to throw him out of the house. 

Harry stroked Draco’s palm with his thumb. “I really don’t think your mother would let Lucius throw you out. She loves you more than anything.” Draco knew Harry was right, but Harry also didn’t understand the influence his father had in the household.

“No matter what—I love you. I’m not going to hide from my parents anymore. Anything’s worth it, if I can be with you.” Draco didn’t even know what the _it_ was that he was referring to, but he knew that he would face any obstacle standing in his way of being with Harry. 

After a few more moments and kisses, Harry and Draco stumbled as the train pulled into the station. Draco didn’t even say the word “goodbye,” because it was nearly too much to bear after months of sleeping in the same room, and even the same bed. Draco gave Harry one final kiss and turned to collect his luggage and say goodbye to his friends.

Stepping off of the train, Draco looked around frantically for platinum blonde hair. Instead he was faced with an older stranger, holding a sign that bore his name. “Mr. Malfoy? Your parents sent me to collect you.” Of course his parents wouldn’t come—Draco understood they still weren’t allowed in public. Draco allowed the man to lead him to a black, sleek car outside the station. Despite cars being a Muggle invention, Draco knew the Floo network in his house was shut down, and he was sure there were wards for apparation. Sending a car was the best option, but Draco still felt annoyance inside of him. This was just prolonging the inevitable. 

The car ride was blissfully silent, and then Draco entered Wiltshire. Malfoy Manor appeared like a looming, dark cloud. It looked a great deal better than it had when Draco left in September. The window panes had been washed and some of the roof tiles replaced. The gardens were not flourishing but were no longer overrun with weeds. Draco wasn’t sure if it was the work of his mother or house elves, but he hoped it was the former and done as a sign of healing.

The driver handed Draco his rolling trunk and made a hasty exit, giving Draco a minute to orient himself. He had a reflexive fear of this house despite the recent improvements. His stomach turned and he for a moment thought he would be ill right in the rose bush. Thankfully he regained control, because one of the front doors swung open.

“Are you just going to stand there gaping all day like you’re some sort of a stranger? Come in, son,” his father bellowed from inside. He was leaning on his cane heavily—whereas before it was more of a display of wealth and provided security from revealing an old Quidditch injury, Lucius appeared to actually need the cane now. 

Draco was embraced immediately upon entering the foyer. As his arms dropped his trunk and wrapped around his mother, he noticed that she seemed to finally be back to her old form. She had always been slender, but when he hugged her this past summer it hardly seemed like there was anything left to embrace. “Hi mum,” he whispered, using an informal name as he drank in her scent. 

She held him at arms length and cupped his face in her hands. “Oh, my dragon. You look so much better than you did when you were last here.”

Draco smiled, but then was torn out of his stupor when his father’s cane rattled against the wall. “Yes, good to see you,” he said dismissively. “Dinner is ready.”

Draco wasn’t hungry but knew he couldn’t miss the first family dinner since he had been home. He pulled out Narcissa’s chair for her while Lucius sat down unsteadily. Draco took a better look at his father. He certainly seemed much improved since his hospital stay, but kept the same manic look in his eyes that Draco hated when he first got out of Azkaban one and a half years ago. Lucius made no move to cut his steak, but made searing eye contact with Draco. Draco swallowed and glanced at his plate. 

“How have you two been?” He asked as a courtesy. When his father remained silent and Narcissa responded accordingly, Draco had to know what his father was thinking. “You seem much better, father.”

“I am,” Lucius responded, almost defensively. “But I’m more interesting in how you are doing. Have you enjoyed your extra year at Hogwarts?”

Lucius had mentioned Draco’s extra year as though it was his choice to go back rather than moving onto an unofficial job of lobbying at the Ministry. “I have. Blaise, Daphne, Gregory, and I have grown close.”

“That’s wonderful, dragon,” Narcissa said, eating daintily. “If you would like to invite them over sometime this break, you are welcome to do so.”

“Thank you, mother,” Draco replied. He cleared his throat. “I actually may go to Blaise’s house early next week. For dinner.” This was Draco’s backup plan, his way to get to the Weasley’s if he could possibly avoid broaching the subject with his parents. 

Lucius did not seem interested. “Have you grown close with anyone else?” His tone was frosty and his eyes were piercing daggers. He definitely knew about Harry.

Draco had two choices. He could either lie to his parents about his true feelings, as he always did, or he could finally take a stand. What could they possibly do? He was a full grown adult now, and in much better standing than either of them. “Actually, yes. Harry Potter and I are in a relationship.”

It seemed as though the world stopped. Tilly, the house elf, had come to refill their drink glasses but nearly dropped the pitcher. She couldn’t escape quickly enough. Lucius looked nearly triumphant, while Narcissa’s expression was unreadable.

“I’m surprised you had the guts to tell us yourself. Dear,” Lucius said, turning to Narcissa. “Our son is not only perverted, but he is fraternizing with our mortal enemy.”

Narcissa remained silent for a moment. She put down her fork and cleared her throat. “Harry Potter is not our mortal enemy, Lucius. And our son is not perverted.”

Lucius slammed his hands down on the table, causing Draco to jump. “How can you possibly say that? It seems that my mind is more sane than yours, even after Azkaban! Harry Potter is the very reason that we cannot leave our home. The reason that we are not invited to any of the forthcoming balls. And now, our son, the only heir to the Malfoy fortune, is throwing his life away. For a man, none the less.” Lucius picked up his butter knife and pointed it at Draco. “I will hear no more of this. You will marry a pureblood woman and she will bear a pureblood child to carry our name.”

Draco was reminded of the manacle still on his wrist. If his father chose to attack him, there would be nothing he could do. “I will live my life as I see fit, Father.”

“Draco, sweetheart,” Narcissa said, putting her hand on Lucius’s outstretched arm. “You’re very young, and have been through so much in such a short time. I understand that you may be having these...feelings, but perhaps they will change. Even if they don’t, it is not uncommon for men with your...preferences to take wives for the purposes of carrying on the name, and fulfilling their pleasures covertly.”

“I am in love with Harry Potter. The relationship will last as long as both of us would like it to. Having a child is nowhere near of a priority of mine. Why would I want my child to have the Malfoy name? It means something much worse than nothing. We’re a family of cowards. We weren’t even proper Death Eaters.” He turned to Lucius. “You always just want to be on the side that gets you the most money. I want to be on my side.”

Lucius stood up, the table trembling from suppressed magic. “Everything I have done, I have done for this family. I will not stand here and listen to this.” Everyone was silent for a moment. “Get out. Get out of my house. Do not come back until you are ready to end this childish behavior.”

“Lucius—“ Narcissa started, looking at Draco with panic.

Lucius shrugged off Narcissa’s hand, violently. “I WILL NOT SIT HERE AND BE UNDERMINED IN MY OWN HOUSEHOLD!” The glasses on the table shattered and spilled wine everywhere. Clearly he was losing control.

“Come, dear, let’s just go in the other room to think,” Narcissa spoke quietly. She grabbed his cane and started to lead him upstairs. “Stay here,” she whispered to Draco.

Draco was dumbfounded and stared at his uneaten plate. He rubbed his chest, feeling as though his heart was breaking. Lucius’s behavior came as no surprise to him. But for his mother to suggest that he live his life as a lie? Maybe it was foolish, but he expected her to be accepting. He was her dragon. Wouldn’t she give up anything, even an heir, to make him happy?

Draco snapped out of his stupor. He was going to leave tonight, no matter what. He couldn’t stand to be in this household regardless of how far away he stayed from his parents. Draco quickly opened his trunk and pulled out the special notebook to write a message to Harry.

_I’m coming, if that’s still alright. Do not worry if it isn’t._

A reply came quickly. _Did they throw you out?_  
  
_My father tried to. My mother is attempting to calm him down. But I don’t want to stay regardless of what they decide. I would rather be here with you and try to work things out from afar._

_I understand, love. We’ll be waiting for you. Do you need help getting here?_  
  
Draco scribbled out a negatory response as he heard his mother descend the stairs. He was sure he could take the Knight Bus to the neighborhood of the Burrow, and walk from there. 

“Dragon,” Narcissa said, clutching her hands together in front of her chest. “Come sit with me.”

Draco obliged, but sat in a chair away from her rather than on the couch next to her. “Mother. My whole life, I have tried to be a good son. Even when that has meant breaking the law. Even when that has meant nearly killing some of my classmates. I love you, and I will always be here for you. But you cannot ask me to deny myself happiness for the rest of my life.”

Narcissa bit her lip and nodded. “I understand. I’m—I’m not happy, but most of all, I want you in my life. You can stay. Lucius, he—he hasn’t been himself. His pride is hurt. I’m sure with time—“

“And I’m willing to give it time, Mother. But not here. I need to get some space.”

Narcissa looked heartbroken but resigned. “Where will you stay?”

“A friend’s.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. “I’ll come back on Christmas, I promise. I want to be a part of this family. But...on my own terms.”

“Oh, Draco,” Narcissa’s eyes welled with tears, and Draco found it hard to resist the temptation to look away. He hated seeing his mother upset. “I want you to be a part of this family more than anything in the world.”

Draco nodded and stood up. He embraced his mother and kissed her on the cheek. “Then I’ll see you in a few days. But—mum,” he said, suddenly serious. “If things get bad here...you’d let me know, wouldn’t you?”

Narcissa shook her head. “He would never hurt me, Draco. We may have a complicated marriage, but we love each other.”

Draco nodded. “You can always let me know if that changes.”

With a final embrace, Draco made his way outside. It was already dark, with the only light coming from the half moon above. Draco felt entirely numb—more so than when he had hypothermia in the last month. In fact, looking back later, Draco had no idea how he came to stand in front of the bizarre structure that had to have been the Burrow. But all of a sudden, he scented Harry as his arms wrapped around Draco.

“Don’t cry. It’s going to be alright.” Had Draco been crying? He hadn’t even noticed until Harry pointed it out. 

The couple sat on the steps, trying to stave away the cold by keeping close, and looked at the stars. Draco began to calm down, and Harry asked gentle questions to extract the past few hours from Draco as though it were venom tearing away his body. By the time it was too cold to bear, Draco felt lighter. 

“We should get you inside,” Harry said. “I just know Molly is doing everything she can to keep from coming out here and smothering you with blankets, but I doubt she can hold on for much longer.”

Draco nodded. “How bad is it going to be? In there, I mean.”

Harry smiled. “I don’t think it will be bad. Come on—“ Harry offered Draco his hand. They walked inside, and Draco prepared to face the family he mocked for years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters left!!! How is it going to end? Was dinner with the Malfoys what you expected? How do you think the Weasleys will receive Draco? Let me know your thoughts. I hope you all are safe and well.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco spends his first day with the Weasleys, and learns that even more company will be arriving.

The Burrow was likely the most bizarre building Draco had ever seen. It looked like multiple shacks stacked on top of each other, a dwelling that surely would collapse without the use of magic. Certainly everything Malfoy Manor wasn’t, the Burrow was warm and inviting. Pesky garden gnomes tried to smash Draco’s shoes as he walked up the rickety front porch, with Harry helping him with his trunk in front. 

It had to have been nearly midnight, but a figure immediately rose from inside, knitting needles dropping to the floor. Mrs. Weasley was plumper than Draco remembered from the Battle of Hogwarts, but it made her look healthy in a way that his mother had never quite achieved. She had dark circles under her eyes, but smiled nonetheless as Draco ducked to step in the small front door.

“Hello, dear,” she said coolly but politely. Draco knew from Harry that Molly Weasley was quite the hugger, but her arms remained at her sides as she gave him a once-over. Harry cleared his throat, and something in Mrs. Weasley’s demeanor changed. “You must have been freezing, sitting outside for so long in December. Come, come in.”

Draco sat at one end of the largest couch, and Harry sat beside him, just close enough for them to touch their fingers. “Have you eaten?” Mrs. Weasley asked, wringing her hands together nervously.

“Yes,” Draco lied. He couldn’t have eaten more than one or two bites of dinner, but he was far too shaken to accept food now. “Thank you for your...hospitality. I hope to not stay long.” Draco remembered his manners.

“Stay as long as you’d like,” Mrs. Weasley said. “It must be difficult, being in that house.”

Draco tried not to flinch, but thankfully Harry intervened. “I think we’re both tired, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Of course,” she said, rounding up some blankets. “Tonight you’ll sleep in Ron’s bed, since Harry’s got the extra in that room. Ron and George are coming from Diagon Alley for the holiday tomorrow, so we’ll have to figure something else out—but that can wait until the morning. Harry can get you anything you need, but here are some extra blankets.”

Draco took the pile of fabric from her outstretched arms. All the blankets she handed him were hand knitted and in various states of condition. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Draco meant it. 

“Oh, posh,” Mrs. Weasley said, turning a bit red in the face. “Harry has told me how much you mean to him. And Harry means a lot to us.” She straightened Harry’s hair and beamed at him. “Now get to bed, tomorrow will be very busy, preparing everything for the feasts to come.”

Draco and Harry made their way up a few flights of stairs, with Draco shouldering his own trunk this time. He felt deeply exhausted, and was extraordinarily grateful that at least he would be in the same room as Harry. He set his trunk at the foot of Ron’s bed. “Do you think Ron will be horrified,” he said dryly. “That I’m sleeping in his bed?”

Harry looked at Draco to make sure he wasn’t being too self-deprecating. “Honestly? A little bit. But don’t worry about it. I explained to the whole family that this was a possibility.”

Draco nodded as he pulled on his pajamas. Harry glanced at him mischievously. “Do you want to...” he gestured to his own bed.

“Absolutely not!” Draco responded, exaggerating his aghast. “I’m a guest in this home, and I’m running out of other places to possibly go. A scandal within the Weasley family is the last thing I need.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

“Okay,” Harry laughed. “I understand.” Harry came to sit next to Draco, their shoulders touching. “Are you alright? Well—as alright as can be?”

“Yeah,” Draco said truthfully. “Honestly? I’m happy the weight of the secret is off my shoulders. At least it’s all out in the open.”

“And you were great,” Harry said. “You stood up for yourself. I’m really, really proud of you.” With a final kiss and those words echoing in his ears, Draco settled down to a surprisingly restful sleep.

“OI!” Draco startled awake to see Ron Weasley standing in the doorway. “You’ve nearly slept through breakfast, Mum will lose it if you don’t get down there. Plus, I’ll need to wash the sheets.” He wasn’t being unfriendly, but Draco could tell he was trying to compensate for his discomfort. Draco looked to his left and found Harry’s bed empty, the sun cascading over the comforter. How long had he been asleep?

After quickly making himself presentable, Draco walked downstairs to a loud dine-in kitchen. George Weasley was talking to Arthur and Harry about the latest Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products while Ginny was eating some pancakes. Mrs. Weasley immediately straightened when she saw Draco, and shoved him into a chair that already had a full plate. 

Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned in a good morning to Draco, while George and Arthur gave him a polite nod before continuing with their conversation. This was just fine with Draco; in fact it was somewhat of a relief not to have to make conversation. 

“When is Bill getting here? I’m hoping he’ll be able to even out a Quidditch team,” Ginny said after swallowing.

“In this weather?” Mrs. Weasley objected. “You’ll all freeze to death.” She shook her head mockingly. “He should be getting here any minute.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later the door opened and Bill Weasley ducked to enter the kitchen. Draco tried to focus on his wild hair rather than the scars that ran across his face. Fleur Delacour entered shortly after, wearing a loose sweater. There were grins and hugs, and even some tears on the part of Molly Weasley. Draco felt a lump in his throat and looked down, embarrassed. The air was heavy with love, and Draco wasn’t used to the chaos or the warmth. Harry kicked him under the table. “You’ll get used to it,” he said quietly and with a soft smile.

Bill and Fleur had clearly also been told about Draco, because they just gave him friendly nods as well. Ginny immediately stood up. “Okay, we’ve got me, Harry, Malfoy, George, Ron, and Bill. We can play three on three.”

“Hold on, Ginny,” Bill said with laughter. “Give us a minute to breathe, it was a long trip.”

Arthur frowned. “You drove?”

“For most of it, yeah,” Bill said, looking at Fleur lovingly. “Not like we could Apparate...”

Mrs. Weasley turned around sharply. She met Fleur’s eyes, and then hers trended downward to Fleur’s concealed middle. Fleur beamed. “It appears you will be...”

“GRANDPARENTS!” Mrs. Weasley finished Fleur’s sentence. “Arthur, did you hear that? Fleur’s pregnant!”

Arthur beamed and shook Bill’s hand. Even Draco had to add his voice to the chorus of congratulations. 

“Oh, Andromeda will be so happy,” Mrs. Weasley spoke, wiping her eyes. “Teddy will get to have his first friend!”

Draco felt himself freeze. He totally forgot about his...cousin? Draco wasn’t one hundred percent sure of the relation, but he certainly remembered Voldemort’s mocking comments about the child born from a half blood and a werewolf. He tried to catch the last bit of the conversation, and heard that Andromeda was planning to come with infant Teddy the next day. Draco looked at Harry in panic. Harry nodded toward the living room, and they were able to escape without notice given the happy chaos in the other room.

“Maybe I shouldn’t—“ Draco stuttered. “I mean, it just seems like there’s a lot happening. A lot of...family stuff. And I don’t want to be around to make things odd—“

“Draco,” Harry said seriously. “I know how you feel. I was worried for the longest time that I was an outsider, intruding on the Weasley’s. But they’ve welcomed me like one of their own. I truly feel like they’re my family.”

“And that’s wonderful, it really is. But it’s different. I _have_ a family, and they hate this one...”

“You also have family in this one,” Harry said gently. “Teddy is your family.”

“Very, very distantly, and I don’t think—“

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Harry reassured Draco, who was nearing a panic attack. “He’s just a baby, he can’t even talk yet. You’ll just be another face to him for a while, and he’ll love having another person around.” Harry looked amused. “Have you ever held a baby?”

“No,” Draco said. Purebloods tended to have children in specific generations so that they would be close enough to marry each other. His friends that did have siblings were still close enough in age so that Draco couldn’t remember them being babies. 

“I hadn’t either,” Harry said, staring into the fire wistfully. “Until this past summer. Teddy is the absolute best. He can change his hair like Tonks, and he really enjoys that. He looks at you with complete love and trust. It’s honestly unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.” Serious again, Harry met Draco’s eyes. “He’s not going to know anything about your past. He’s just going to know that he has another relative who cares about him. And honestly, he needs whatever blood family he can get.”

Draco felt guilt settle deep inside of him. Though he couldn’t fault himself for Tonks and Remus’s deaths, he knew what Harry was trying to say. Teddy really only had his grandparents, and they were aging as it was. If Draco could show him why having some Black in his blood wasn’t the worst thing, he would do it. 

The rest of the day passed smoothly. The Weasley’s mostly ignored Draco, which was fine with him. They even had a fun Quidditch match in the crisp winter air with spare brooms. Draco struggled a bit—he wasn’t used to the older brooms, and he got smacked with a Bludger by George, who did not look too sorry. But overall it was very fun, and Draco was able to take his mind off his family woes. 

That evening, Ron agreed to sleep on the couch downstairs so that Harry and Draco, both technically not members of the family, could have an escape from the noise. As Harry was helping Ron set up camp on the couch, Draco noticed the bond between the two. It seemed that Harry had a special relationship with each and every member of the Weasley family. Previously, Draco would have been jealous of this. Even with his own extended family, there always seemed to be a disconnect. Dinners were always cold, and Draco spent more time worrying about whether or not his posture was acceptable than anything else. The Weasley’s were almost too good to be true. Draco couldn’t help but beam at the way the brothers ruffled Harry’s hair, and at the way Mrs. Weasley fussed over him. He wouldn’t change anything. 

Draco decided to retire to bed early that evening, giving Harry some quality time with the people that he loved. Yet he lay awake, not just because of the laughter that resounded below. He was going to meet his Aunt Andromeda for the very first time tomorrow. Not only that, but he would finally be able to put a face to the name of Teddy Tonks, who even the Dark Lord made fun of. Draco shuddered and finally fell in to a fitful sleep.

“ _Shoot,” six-year-old Draco cursed as his toy trolley zoomed under a bookshelf in his mother’s study. He got on all fours to retrieve it, poking his head under the crack. His trolley didn’t go too far under the shelf, and when Draco pulled it out, he noticed it was because there was a small photo album against the wall. He slid the album out after his trolley, and tossed the car aside. Running his hands over the leather cover made his hands dusty, and he sneezed when he opened the album. It was filled with pictures of a girl who looked a little familiar to him. There were some portraits of only her, a mysterious smile on her face. There were also some of her with two other girls. One had wild, curly hair, and the other looked solemn, almost uncomfortable, in each photograph._

_He heard footsteps down the hallway and quickly shoved the album back under the bookshelf. Looking through an album wasn’t ever something his parents forbade him from doing, little Draco couldn’t help feeling like he was doing something wrong. “Dragon? I heard a thump, is everything alright?” His mother rounded the corner, her hair braided, wearing a pale blue dress._

_“Yes, I lost my trolley for a moment. Everything is fine, Mother,” Draco spoke politely._

_Narcissa’s gaze went to the bookshelf. Draco nearly cursed—the corner of the album was still visible. To his relief, Narcissa smiled. “I see you discovered something. Would you like to show me?”_

_Draco pulled out the album and handed it to Narcissa, who had moved into an armchair. She motioned for Draco to curl up next to her, though he was nearly too big for the two of them to fit comfortably. When Narcissa hesitated in opening the album, Draco flipped to the page he was looking at. “Do you know who this is, dragon?” Narcissa pointed to the photo of the familiar girl._

_“No,” Draco replied. Then he looked at his mother’s knowing face. “Wait...is this you?”_

_Narcissa laughed. “Yes, when I was a little older than you are now.” Narcissa pointed to a portrait of her with an unsmiling couple behind her. “These are my parents, and your grandparents. They were present soon after your birth, before they passed.”_

_Draco stopped Narcissa before she could turn to the next page. “Who are these other girls?”_

_Draco felt Narcissa stiffen. He didn’t like to upset his mother. “These are my sisters.” She first pointed to the one with the curly hair. “This is your Aunt Bellatrix. You’ve met her multiple times, but you were far too young to remember. We talked about where she is now.” Draco nodded, even though he did not quite understand that conversation when she had it with him a couple months prior. “This,” Narcissa paused, her voice thick with emotion. “Is my other sister, Andromeda.”_

_It seemed Narcissa did not want to say anything more about it, but Draco couldn’t help himself. “Why haven’t I met her? Where is she?”_

_Narcissa shut the album with some force, and it made Draco jump. “She abandoned us. As long as I’m a part of it, you’ll never meet her, dragon. She doesn’t care about this family.”_

_Draco found his eyes filling with tears, for reasons unknown to him. “Why would someone abandon their own family? Why doesn’t one of my family members care about me?” He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice—his father hated it when he cried. But his mother was more understanding of his emotions, and merely kissed him on the head._

“ _It was a difficult situation, love. But I will never abandon you. Your father won’t either. We’re always going to be a family, and we will always care about you.”_

Draco startled awake, his pillow wet. He saw the silhouette of Harry as he took off his shirt. Harry smiled when he saw Draco was awake, then looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

Draco sat up. “Yeah. I just—dreamt of the first time I learned about...Teddy’s grandmother. My mother said she abandoned the family. And I got upset, and then she assured me she and my father would never abandon me.” Draco let out a humorless laugh. 

Harry sat next to Draco on his bed and put his arm around him. “I don’t think your mother wants to abandon you. Not at all. And just think, you’ll get to meet another relative tomorrow!”

“One who probably hates my guts. And who has a little one who will hate my guts, once he finds out what I’ve done.”

“No,” Harry said. “Children are forgiving. He’ll only know the you that you are now. And Andromeda—she’ll completely understand why you had to leave, maybe better than anyone. Maybe it will be good for you two to chat.”

“I guess,” Draco said, not quite convinced. But he smiled for Harry anyway. “Thank you, love. It really has been nice here. But I think I’ll try and go back to the manor for Christmas. Patch things up.”

“I understand,” Harry said with a sad smile. “We’ll always be here for you.”

Draco turned and buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. “I know you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for how long it’s been! I’m a campaign manager, so things have been crazy with the upcoming election. But I hope everyone is staying safe. This story is almost complete! I’m still trying to decide what will be next—another part to this one, or something else entirely. But there will be something!

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, here is the sequel! My second fanfiction. Please let me know what you think!! I read all comments and reply to most


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